Skin Deep
by Arldetta
Summary: S1 AU - Dean never got Sam at Stanford. Sam is at school when he finds out some disturbing info about his brother. Reviews and Comments welcome. Rated for language and implied mature themes. P.S. FYI, This is NOT a Winchester/OFC romance, in fact far from. -Now Complete-
1. Interruption

**Title:** Skin Deep

**Summary:** AU Dean never went to Sam to find their father. Sam made his interview and was accepting into Law School and offered an internship with a well respected law firm. Everything is going well until he gets disturbing news about his brother.

**Author's note:** Well, howdy folks. Just under a year ago, I was introduced to Sam and Dean when I saw re-run of AHBL 1 & 2 one morning. At that time, Season 5 was wrapping up on CW, Jensen and Jared were getting married and I was job hunting. I think in some ways I may have OCD, because after watching AHBL, I suddenly found myself downing all five seasons in the matter of a month- give or take a week and reading tons of fan fic and snatching up some books and DVDs. I wrote a series of drabbles, which I am happy about because they are not something I excel at or are fond of but I challenged myself and I did it. I wanted to tackle a full story but I also didn't want to start writing and posting with an unfinished fic that really had no end in sight. I have enough stories hanging that I want to finish I didn't need to add one more to the mix. Bad news, this is still not a completed story, however I do know with 55+ pages already written and only a few chapters left to go, that I can complete this and post without interruptions for a full and complete fic. So the good news is that I have 10 chapters ready to go and with a weekly posting schedule I am confident in actually posting weekly to the end. Yeah!

**Author's Note 2:** Just as an FYI, I am a total Dean girl, but for some reason I find myself writing Sam more than Dean in this story. Not entirely a surprise when in Star Wars I wrote a lot of Qui-Gon when I am a major Obi-Wan girl. Anyway, I digress. I decided a few weeks ago that I would start posting this on Dean's B-day, so I am. Happy Birthday, Dean!

**Posting:** I will be posting new chapters weekly on Mondays.

**Reviews:** Always welcome! I would REALLY APPRECIATE them! But I'm also thankful for those lurkers out there too. (I am a stat watcher, lol.)

Well, this may not be new, but I hope you enjoy my little twist on it. Thank you all for reading!

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

It was Tuesday. Sam always enjoyed his Tuesdays as well as his Thursday Afternoons and Friday Mornings. Because on those days, he wasn't locked in a classroom listening to lectures but working and learning from real cases. After he was accepted into law school, Sam put in his application for some internships and managed to get picked for the grand daddy of them all. He was selected by Towsen and Towsen, who didn't always pick up an intern for every semester but almost always hired the interns they picked.

Not only was this the cushy internship because there was a high chance you were also working on your career already but because it was also paid! So with a full ride and a paying job, Sam Winchester was living large.

He had hoped that with his newfound wages he could buy that ring for Jess, but with her own success in Nursing, she decided to focus on her own career and asked to remain friends with benefits for a while until they both knew exactly where their careers would take them. Jess had taken a night shift internship at Stanford Hospital and had a number of mid-afternoon classes, while Sam was up at the crack of dawn for his classes and then either doing research at the library or putting principles in action at Towsen and Towsen.

They barely saw each other anymore. He missed her. She had stayed late at the hospital again so she hadn't gotten back before he had to leave for work. This was happening more and more often and rarely had the opportunity to catch up during the weekend. They both had a lot of school work to do over the weekends and Jess often had to work one night over those two days which threw their sleep schedule off. Maintaining a full fledged relationship was becoming increasingly impossible. So they chose to wait and see what the next two years would bring before determining if their lives could work together.

Despite the setback, Sam knew Jess was the girl for him and knew once they found a way to make it work, they would be very happy together. Sam wasn't worried. So any time spent together was relished by both. They respected and cared for each other enough to wait.

As Sam arrived at Towsen and Towsen, he greeted Lonny, their receptionist who was also a student at Stanford. Lonny acknowledged him with a quick nod but that was about all she did. She was engrossed in another mailer to be sent out and answering calls.

Flopping down into his seat, Sam logged into his computer and started reading through his e-mails. Most were conversations between his boss and a few of the other lawyers in the office, which really didn't concern him. A few were for him to follow up on some research or get information together on some cases he was helping with. But a few like the one from his friend Becky were important to him. Her brother Zach had been accused of murder right before the semester started, so neither returned for the semester obviously. Sam had known Zach too and knew that he was not capable of murder, but there was little he could do from Palo Alto.

He had been trying his best to offer her moral support and any advice he could give legally, but some laws were different in Missouri so he couldn't be certain that his advice would be accurate enough for Zach's case. The e-mail he had received from her late Friday afternoon though was starting to make him wonder.

He read:

'Sam,

I just got a call from Zach's lawyer. He wanted me to explain the whole situation again. So I told him that he already had that information and there was nothing else I could tell him that would change it. When they said they needed to confirm everything, I asked them why and that's when he told me something weird. He said that they were just contacted by another client, some big salesman from a huge corporation in our area, whose situation is very similar to Zach's. And after a little digging, they found out this is the fourth case like Zach's in the area.

They said all four men are being charged with assault and battery, with either murder charges or attempted murder charges, and all are claiming the same thing. That they weren't home when it happened but there is evidence that they were. That would mean all four of them were in two places at one time! But that's impossible right? I started going through the papers to find out about the others, and they all look totally different. So there couldn't be any way any of them could be mistaken for another. I am so confused. Nothing is making sense. I'm going to meet with the lawyers on Monday at 1pm to see if there could somehow be a connection, but they seem just as confused as me.

I'll let you know what happens.

Later,

Becky'

Sam sat back. Something wasn't right. Four different cases with almost four identical stories? Something was definitely wrong with this picture and he didn't like it at all. Switching out of his e-mail, Sam began accessing a number of sites and databases to collect as much information as he could on the cases. Fortunately, he knew what lawyers the Warren's were using and sent them a request for the two case files that they were handling. A professional request from a colleague who was also advising one of their clients was generally responded to quickly. The other two cases would be trickier.

He went through some online articles and made some calls to other firms in the area and was able to find out who was representing the other two defendants. Now all he had to do was wait for their response.

It was almost 11 am when he finally got back to reading through his e-mail. He got through a few more when another e-mail from Becky popped up, this one from Saturday.

'Hey Sam,

Just wanted to let you know that an FBI agent came over today. He said he was looking into all four cases. He asked a lot of strange questions. And when I asked him what he thought, he said I probably wouldn't believe him. That sometimes the answers to cases like these aren't easy to explain.

I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean but he was really nice and seemed to really want to help Zach and the others. He gave me his card and told me to call him if I could think of anything else. This is good right? I mean if the FBI are interested, maybe Zach has a chance of getting free.

Anyway, not sure if it will help or if you can get anything from him, but I've scanned his card and attached it here in case. I hope he can find something because I know Zach didn't do this.

Thanks for everything,

Becky'

Sam opened the file and in the same instant his heart skipped a beat and a quick laugh escaped him. He knew that Agent, FBI Agent Ted Nugent, and he knew that number even if he hadn't called it in years. _Dean._

Without really reading the rest of the e-mails, Sam finished going through them. All the while his thoughts lingered on his older brother. He couldn't really place the feelings he was struggling with knowing that his brother had visited Becky. If his brother was there then that meant something supernatural was in St. Louis, Missouri. And if his brother was there, then John was probably there too. He hadn't spoken to his father since that night he walked out to go to Stanford, over 4 years ago. Dean had tried occasionally to keep in touch, but when Sam was too busy to call back, apparently Dean got the hint and stopped bothering him too.

It's been over two years now since he had any contact with either of them. But no matter whether or not they kept in contact, Sam knew what they did and what they faced. Where ever his family went, danger was nipping at their heels. And if danger was there, then that meant Becky and Zach were somehow caught up in the middle of it. But it also meant that the best hunters in the country were there working on the case and they always finished their jobs. He just hoped that they could finish this one quickly so no more lives were torn apart.

Sam was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Carrie come up to him until she spoke. "Sam?"

"Oh hey, Carrie, what's up?" He asked her. She was the personal assistant to James Towsen, the younger of Towsen and Towsen. Richard Towsen was James' older brother, although they both were equal partners in the firm.

"Jimmy would like to see you in his office."

"Oh, ok. Um, is he with an appointment or should I go now?"

She smiled, "He's open. Next appointment isn't til after lunch. Go on."

Smiling back, Sam headed toward the man's office. The two offices took up one whole side of the floor, each one with their own corner. Jimmy's on the left and Richie's on the right. Jimmy's door was open when Sam arrived. Lightly, he knocked on the frame of the door. When Jimmy looked up, Sam said, "You asked to see me, sir?"

The 40 year old man looked up at the arrival and grinned. "Yes," he said as he stood up. Jimmy stepped around the desk and motioned towards the chairs around a small meeting table in the corner. "Please have a seat. Jenn will be joining us in a few minutes." He closed the door before joining Sam.

Curious now, Sam regarded his boss. There were a few Jenn's in the office and he wasn't exactly sure who Jimmy was referring to. "Sir?"

Moving to a seat across from Sam, Jimmy relaxed into the chair. "How are you liking things here, Sam?"

"Very well, sir. Everyone is just great and I enjoy helping out with the cases."

"Good, that's good. This job can be very satisfying if you apply yourself. Which is why we select our interns very carefully. With your GPA and LSAT Scores, we knew you would be a great candidate. And thus far you have done an excellent job."

"Thank you sir."

"I mean it, Sam. Your research is always top notch and some of the theories you postulate are sound. And there have already been a few cases when your theories have proven correctly. In some ways, I wonder if you should have gone into law enforcement instead of a law office. I bet you're one of those people who solve the cases on those CSI shows before they do."

"Not a lot of time right now to watch many shows."

"No, I guess not, between study and work. But it wouldn't surprise me. Anyway, as I was saying, we select our interns with great care because there is so much more to this than just pushing paper. I'm sure you recall the background check we ran on you."

"I do." Sam frowned, this conversation wasn't going the way he expected and he was starting to get a bad feeling. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Um, is something wrong sir?"

"Not exactly. Sam, in our line of work, we must choose our cases wisely and always maintain a level of professionalism. Often that means it is not good for us to help friends and family, because our judgment can easily be compromised by our feelings." Sam was starting to understand why he was called in here. "Now I know, what good is all of our knowledge and resources if we can't help the people we care about? And it is not completely taboo to help them, but we must always look at how taking on certain cases may look against the Firm and our integrity and reputation."

"This is about Zach Warren, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. As you are aware, e-mail communications can be used in court and thus we have a department that reviews and screens all of our e-mail. You have made a number of inquiries in regards to a case that we are not handling although you have led them to believe we are working on the case as well."

"I know sir. And I meant no harm by it, it's just both Becky and Zach were friends of mine here in Stanford and I know that Zach is not capable of the crime he is being accused of. And now that there are similar cases being reported I had to look deeper into it. Anything that I could find might help not only one innocent man but many. And that's the truth, sir."

"Easy Sam. You're not in any trouble yet. I just want to caution you on abusing your privileges here and if there is something you are interested in or need help with all you have to do is ask. We want you to succeed here and we can help you make the proper choices." Just then there was a soft knock on the door. Jimmy called, "You can come in Jenn."

The door opened and Jenn Abernathy slipped into the room. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a tight bun, although the curls in her hair didn't lend themselves to the slick crisp look expected. She had a round face and deep brown eyes. She wasn't the drop dead gorgeous lookers that you see on TV, but she had an honest face, which helped when having to speak publicly. Because Jenn Abernathy was the PR rep for the firm.

The thick folder in her hands should have caused some concern, however it was the grim and somewhat bewildered expression that had both men wondering what upset her. "I apologize for being late, but I just collected some new information that I felt vital to this meeting."

"Sam, I asked Jenn to collect all the information you requested on Mr. Warren's case as well as the others. We were going to go over everything so you can begin to understand how to handle these situations."

Jenn sat on a chair between them and placed the folder on the table, her hands fidgeting nervously on top of it. "Forgive me sir, but I believe circumstances have changed enough to be more concerned about this case."

"How so?" Jimmy asked.

Sam suddenly felt that no matter what Jenn said right now, it was going to be far worse than he could ever imagine.

Glancing up at Jimmy, Jenn began, "I just spoke with Mr. Roberts, the Warren's attorney, and he has just been apprised of a new development in the case." At this she paused and cautiously looked at Sam. "It appears that late last night, the police were dispatched to Rebecca Warren's home. She had failed to meet with him for their appointment yesterday afternoon. After several failed attempts to contact her, Mr. Roberts requested that police be dispatched and they went." She took a deep breath before continuing.

"When the police arrived, they noticed that something was wrong and broke into the home. Inside they found Rebecca tied to a chair, obviously beaten. Fortunately, the assailant was also there and the police were able to apprehend him."

Concerned, Sam asked, "Oh my god, is she all right?"

"She was taken to the Hospital and was able to make a statement. She said that the man who attacked her, she had met before. She said he was an FBI Agent that had visited her over the weekend."

Outwardly, Sam remained calm, but inwardly, his heart began pounding harshly in his chest and his stomach dropped down into his knees. He wasn't stupid. He knew what she was telling him, but he refused to believe it. She had to be talking about someone else.

"When the police took the man into custody, they ran their normal background checks and found that he was not an FBI Agent. In fact, he was already wanted for Fraud, Impersonating various Officials and a number of other misdemeanors. They also got his real name."

_Don't say it! Don't you dare say it!_ Sam's mind screamed. He couldn't even breathe.

With such sympathy in her eyes, it only confirmed Sam's fears before she even said, "His name is Dean Winchester."

Jimmy's head snapped toward Sam, the sheer shock evident on his face.

Sam refused to accept what he heard. He was automatically shaking his head 'no' falling back into the chair in disbelief, a hand running through his hair. "That's not possible," he muttered. "Dean wouldn't do that. It can't be him."

"I'm sorry Sam, but-"

"No!" Sam sprang to his feet; the chair shifting awkwardly behind him.

"Sam, calm down." Jimmy started, holding out a placating hand. "You are not responsible for your family's actions. If Dean-"

"No, you don't understand. He _couldn't_ do that. It's not in his nature."

"I know how difficult this must be for you, but you can't presume to know what your brother - is it? - is capable or incapable of doing."

"Yes, I can. Even as a kid all he ever cared about was protecting me - people. Everyone always thought he was just a punk, they never saw the real him. Anytime he saw someone in need, he would do whatever was needed to take care of that person, with no thought of himself. I – So I know, this isn't right. He may be rough around the edges but he is not capable of hurting an innocent woman. There is something wrong here, and I have to find out what it is."

"What are you saying, Sam?"

"I have to go to him. I have to talk to him. I have to talk to Becky. I won't believe it until I see it for myself."

"I understand. Jenn?" The two veteran employees shared a brief look before she gave a tiny curt nod and stood to meet Sam's stature, even if she came up only to his shoulders.

"Mr. Winchester, as a representative of this firm, any actions you take may be used to determine your continued employment with our firm." He was about to protest when she raised a hand and effectively shut him up. "As this has now become an internal affair involving one of our employees, it is imperative that representation must be present to ensure the integrity and reputation of Towsen and Towsen. As a result, with Mr. Towsen's permission, I will go ahead and book the flight to St. Louis for both of us."

"I don't think-"

"It no longer matters what you think. I suggest you go home and pack. Be back here within the hour, I will have a car waiting to pick us up and take us to the airport." Stunned, Sam just stood there. Jenn gave a slight bow to her employer and collected her things. "Now if you will excuse me, I have arrangements to make." Then she left.

Sam quickly regained his senses and looked to Jimmy. "Sir, I can take care of this myself. It's not nec-"

"As Jenn already said, this situation is no longer a simple inquiry but an internal affair. And while my previous suggestion works for most cases, and based upon your reactions, I know there won't be any way to dissuade you from direct involvement, it would be best to have someone help guide you through all this. Now, you better hurry. She is quite thorough and I'm sure you don't want to miss your flight."

Defeated, Sam nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Good luck, Sam. I hope you are able to clear your brother and your friend's name, somehow."

"Don't you worry sir, I will." And with that, Sam hurried out the door. He practically ran back to his desk and gathered his things.

It didn't take him long to get back to the apartment he shared with Jess. And it took even less time to pack and write a note about his sudden trip. And then he was on his way back to the office. As he got there, he noticed a limo parked out front. Inside, he placed his bag next to Lonny's desk and asked her if she had seen Jenn.

"Not yet, but I'm sure she'll be along shortly. The car is already here waiting for you." The receptionist replied.

Muttering his thanks, he decided to go and find her. He found her outside her office, talking to one of her assistants, obviously giving them directions. He waited for her to finish her conversation before approaching her again. "Ms. Abernathy."

"Jenn, please."

"Alright, Jenn, are you sure you want to do this? I am certain I can handle this by myself."

"We have already had this discussion. My job for over the past ten years is to protect the name of Towsen and Towsen. It is my duty to make sure that it is upheld." They continued to move through the office as she handed off folders and spoke quickly to people, updating them on what they needed to do while she was gone.

"But, with all that has happened already this could be dangerous."

"I know, Sam. This isn't the first time family has caused trouble for our employees and I doubt it will be the last. Now our flight doesn't leave for another 2 hours, but it would be best to leave now to avoid afternoon traffic. I have made arrangements for a car to collect us once we arrive in St. Louis and take us to the precinct that is holding your brother. As you have already made inquiries into these cases, I have asked that it be a private meeting with his representation.

"When we are finished there, I have also scheduled a brief interview with your friend, Becky at the Hospital. As she is a key witness to 2 disturbing cases, her visitations are being limited to family and officials only. I have cleared our visit through her Councilor, Mr. Roberts. I have us booked in adjacent rooms at a Hotel located between the precinct and the hospital. I suggest after dinner, that you rest. We can meet in the morning to go over what we know with clear heads and plan our strategy. We will need to work fast if you want to free your brother. I hear that he may be moved soon to the state penitentiary and visitations will be harder to obtain."

She paused, turning to look up at the forlorn young man next to her. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she said, "I hope he is the kind of man you say he is, because you will only have one hour to get as much information as possible to find out what really happened." After patting his arm, she resumed her walk back to the front desk. "We should be going."

Taking a few long strides to catch up, Sam said, "Thank you for arranging everything. I can't believe you managed to get it all taken care of so quickly."

"It's what I do."

"Will we be stopping at your place to get your things?"

"Not necessary, I just have to collect my bag from my car and then we can go."

"You have a bag already made in your car?"

"I learned long ago to be ready to go at a moment's notice. As I said, this isn't the first time something like this has happened, and quite often high paying clients require immediate personal attention during high profile cases. One must always be prepared."

Sam grabbed his bag at Lonny's desk and said good bye while Jenn went out to the parking lot to get hers. Within minutes the two were off to the airport to get their flight to St. Louis, Missouri.

- S - P - N - S - P - N -

Well, I hope it wasn't too bad. Thanks for reading! Your comments are always welcome!

See ya next week.

~Ari :D


	2. Wrong

Author's Note: Alright, a couple quick things first and then you can read a nice long chapter. Disclaimer; I am not in law, near the law or understanding of the law in many respects, even if I do respect the law when it's valid and works for the people. Confused yet? Cause I sure am. Anyway, as I was saying, don't work in a law firm, so I don't know how they work. (wow, I am full of backassward comments today.) I do understand that a PR rep can be very versatile depending on how they are utilized. From what I also understand larger firms have them around to make sure people don't do stupid things in the public eye. So I may or may not be stretching Jenn's role. I'll probably have more to say in future chapters, for now please accept my little reality for what it is. Thanks!

Oh, one more thing before we start…

WARNING: Language and implied Mature themes but nothing graphic

- S – P – N – S – P – N -

Thus far, the plane ride was going quite smoothly. And despite the circumstances, Sam thought it was pretty cool riding in First Class. The leg room alone made this trip more bearable.

While Jenn worked on reports, Sam read through all the files they had collected as well as the police report from Dean's arrest. He was just finishing the report and couldn't believe what he was reading. It said that they found him standing over Becky with a knife when he tried to run. And that he gloated about what he did as they dragged him to jail. It just didn't make any sense. Frustrated, he slammed his fist down on to the tray and groaned.

Jenn glanced over at him and smiled sadly. "I know how frustrating this must be for you. And I truly do hope that somehow this is all some twisted mix up. But you should also try and prepare yourself for the worst of it, too."

"I know, but I just can't believe it. Not until I can talk to him and confirm it. I know I keep saying this, but this isn't right. This," he gestured to the report splayed out on the tray, "is not my brother."

"Sam, I did a little more research on you as well this morning. And according to my findings, you haven't spoken to your brother in at least two years. A lot could change in that time. People can change. Is it possible something could have happened to Dean to make him change?"

Sam laughed at that. How could he explain to her that there were a number of things that could change his brother by the sheer nature of their work. And that included a number of creatures too. It had to be something supernatural to make his brother into a psychotic killer. The big problem was how to find out what supernatural thing did it with his 'guardian' around. Sighing, he answered, "Oh it's possible all right, just not probable."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he's my brother."

"That isn't a coverall, Sam."

"Listen, I know what you are trying to do, and I appreciate it really. But you don't know my brother. You don't know what he's like. If there was one person on this whole planet that I could truly count on, it was him. And when we were growing up, well all I ever wanted to be was him. I know how sappy this all must sound to you, but he was my hero. He took care of me, hell he practically raised me. And after all we've been through, all _he's_ been through, there is nothing that will make me believe he is a cold blooded killer."

"He's your older brother, right?"

"Yeah. He was my protector."

"And yet he hasn't contacted you in what? Two, three years?"

"Don't blame Dean for that, blame me. I stopped contacting them, and eventually he figured out I wasn't going to respond and let me live my own life. He always did what I asked him, even if I never actually said it out loud. He knew I wanted my space and he gave it to me. You can't fault him for that."

"You make him sound like the perfect man."

Sam couldn't help but laugh hard at that. "Dean is anything but perfect. Most times, he's a jerk, but when it matters, he's the one you _want_ in your corner. He's a good man, with a good heart. Just don't ever tell him I said all that or he'll never let me live it down. He's also got the Ego of a giant."

"Sounds like quite a character."

"You better believe it."

Just then the Captain came on over the sound system announcing their decent into St. Louis and to ask the stewards to make their final checks and get seated.

Sam couldn't wait to land. It was only a matter of time now and he would finally see his brother again.

- S – P – N –

Everything was going exactly as Jenn had planned it. The car picked them up and they were on their way to the precinct. They had taken one quick detour at Sam's request that surprised Jenn. She didn't take him for a religious man.

When they arrived at the Police Station, she spoke with the dispatch and they were taken to see the Officer in Charge. He was going to have the prisoner brought to one of the interrogation rooms. While they were being frisked and checked before their meeting, Sam discretely made a very odd request.

He asked that a glass of water be placed in the room, but even more strange was that he handed over a flask, asking for the water inside to be used instead of any tap. When the officer eyed him suspiciously, he swore that there was nothing wrong with the water, it was more of a superstitious thing. And to prove its innocence, he took a quick swig of the water, even going as far as opening his mouth to show that he had indeed taken a drink from it.

Reluctantly, the Officer complied. While the pair waited, Sam walked over to Jenn and cleared his throat. Glancing up at him, her expectant expression already anticipated that he wanted to ask her something.

Smiling his most charming smile, Sam began, "Jenn, I want you to know that I am very grateful for all your attention and setting everything up for me to see my brother. I can't thank you enough."

"But?" She wasn't fooled.

"I know what you are going to say, but please hear me out. I would like to speak with my brother alone first."

Shaking her head, she voiced her concern. "I don't think that's a good idea, Sam."

"Please, please just try to understand," he beseeched with puppy dog eyes in full swing. "You know we haven't seen each other in a long time. When I left for Stanford, my Dad wasn't exactly happy about it and I kind of left on a sour note. And even though I'm sure Dean's not holding a grudge, I'm not exactly sure how he's going to react when he sees me. And even more so, if he has changed, if he has become this monster, well I don't want to put you at unnecessary risk."

"I already told you that I am aware of the danger."

"I know, I know just hear me out. When we were kids, my dad trained us how to fight, see he was a marine before he got married and fought in the Vietnam War. He showed us different fighting skills and most importantly how to be resourceful. I wouldn't put it past him to get out of the cuffs if he wanted to. If it's just me in there, then only I would get hurt. After all that you've done I really would be upset if somehow my brother hurts you too."

The sincerity of his voice and those big puppy dog eyes slowly whittled down her resolve. And against her better judgment, Jenn reluctantly gave in to his request. "On one condition, if he does show any signs of aggression you get the hell out of there too."

"And if he is the man I know he is, then I will be happy to bring you in and introduce you."

"Deal."

The Officer came in then to take them to the interrogation room. Jenn waved him on as Sam walked behind the Deputy. They stopped in front of a door and the officer waited until Sam indicated he was ready.

At Sam's nod, the door opened and he stepped inside.

- S – P – N –

Dean looked up at the arrival and after only a moments shock, flopped back in his seat. "Well, speak of the devil. Little Sammy decided to show up after all this time."

"Dean."

"In the flesh," his brother said with a smirk.

There was something in the expression that felt wrong to Sam. Still, he had to be sure. He walked over to the table and put down his little brief case. "Listen, we don't have a lot of time. You need to tell me what exactly is happening here."

"What's to tell, Sammy?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Even if I did try to explain anything, no one here's going to believe me. They don't know the things we do. What lurks in the darkness. All they know is that I was at the scene of the crime and that bitch is saying I did it."

At Dean's harsh description of his friend, Sam suddenly realized that Dean didn't know he was friends with Becky and Zach. He wasn't aware of Sam's involvement with their case. Which meant that Dean had no idea how much Sam knew about the situation. And if there was any doubt in his mind as to what was going on, he could use that to his advantage. Leaning back in his own chair, Sam asked, "So you mean to tell me that she's lying."

"Of course she is. You know me Sammy, would I hurt some innocent girl?"

"No, you wouldn't."

"Exactly, but I realized too late, what was going on. That bitch set me up. Probably set her brother up too. I'm telling you Sam she's involved in all these murders, I know it."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, she obviously had access to her brother's place and they would trust her enough to let her in. Easy access to get in and attack. And she called me yesterday afternoon and asked me to come over that night. Lured me in with some BS story of how her brother was acting funny right before he killed his girl."

"You know this isn't making a lick of sense. According to the report, Becky was supposed to meet her lawyer yesterday afternoon. And when she didn't show, the lawyer sent cops over to look for her. Why would she break the appointment just to call you? Maybe it would be best if you take a drink and start from the very beginning."

"Whatever dude."

Sam watched as Dean reached for the glass of water and then promptly drank from it. Putting the glass back down, Dean began, "Well, I was on a job in Illinois when I read about the first murder. By the time I finished up there, there had been two more incidents with the same MO. And in our line of work, there's no such thing as coincidence. So I jumped in the car and made my way down here. Just as I got here, another report was coming in about the last victim. I started doing the job and now I'm stuck in here."

"What's dad's theory?"

"He doesn't have one." His brother snapped.

"Why not?"

"Because he isn't here."

Sam was surprised at the barely reigned in anger in his brother's voice. In all his life, he very rarely heard his brother speak badly of their father, let alone with anger that was usually only reserved for the monsters they hunted. Another wrench thrown in this already perplexing situation. What also worried him was that Dean had no reaction to the water he drank. Sam was starting to doubt himself. Worse, he was starting to doubt his brother. And he couldn't accept that. Pushing his fears aside, Sam addressed the problem at hand.

"What do you mean he's not here?"

"I mean he's not here. What are you deaf? He's off doing his own thing, so I'm doing mine."

"He's letting you hunt on your own?"

"Dude, I'm 26, I think I can take care of myself."

"I know, apart from the current situation but you two have kinda been hunting together for so long, I just never thought of you two splitting up."

"Well, I never thought the three of us would split up either, Sammy. But life has a bitch of a way of proving you wrong. So who cares if the bastard is here or not? You gonna help me, or what?"

"I've never seen you like this. What the hell happened between you two?"

"What the hell do you care? You weren't there. You left, Sammy. You wanted your apple pie life. How's that treating you? Not like I give a damn."

_Oh, this was so wrong!_ Sam's mind screamed. Dean would never talk to him like that and he said as much. "What's wrong with you Dean? This isn't like you."

"Yeah, well maybe it's the new me."

"No, I don't buy that. Why are you acting like this?"

"Well, maybe this is what happens to those left behind. After everyone you ever cared about up and abandon's you! But that never occurred to you, did it Sam? You never considered _Dean_'s feelings when you ran away to college. Never thought about what life would be like for _him_ when you were gone. All you cared about was yourself!"

Third person. Dean had referred to himself in the third person. He had never done that before. So why do it now, unless….

"I read the police report. It said you were gloating about what you did to Becky. How you enjoyed cutting her up. Hearing her screams." Slowly, Sam reached into his case and pulled out the folder holding the report. At the same time he carefully extracted another item from the lining of the bag.

With a feral grin, Dean's entire demeanor suddenly changed. "Her screams were music to my ears."

With unexpected speed, Sam lashed out catching the back of Dean's hand with the blade. The resulting hiss of burning flesh and the yelp that accompanied it told Sam all he needed to know. Gazes locked in mutual hatred, the brother's stared at each other. Sam held the blade up for Dean to see and demanded, "Where is my brother?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Dean snarled back.

"Tell me where he is."

"Why should I?"

"Because if you don't I'll, I'll…"

"You'll what? Kill me? In the middle of a police station, even you can't be that dumb, Sammy. You'll get locked up and you'll never see big brother again." Dean laughed.

Rage engulfed him, and all Sam could see was red. He slid over the table and brought the blade within an inch of Dean's eye. "I don't have to kill you. But I hear pain is a good motivator."

"Go ahead, I'll never tell you. And even if I did, it's probably already too late."

"What did you do to him?"

"Anything I wanted." There was a twinkle in the man's eye that churned Sam's stomach and he tasted bile at the back of his throat.

"You bastard," Sam growled.

Dean chuckled mirthlessly. "Takes one to know one."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Sammy, don't start playing the fool now. It doesn't suit you. I may be a sadistic bastard, but nothing I can do to Dean will ever top what you and your dad did to him. You two took him for granted. He gave up everything for you, did everything your dad ever asked him and yet you both still dropped him like a bad habit. Neither of you cared how much your actions hurt him. And even still he protects you, _defends_ you even. You call me a bastard? I'm just a speck on the wall compared to you two."

"You're lying!"

"Go ahead and tell yourself that, if it'll make you feel better."

"Tell me where he is!"

"No, I don't think so. This is much more fun. And I'm all for fun. Why do you think I do this? Their pain, their screams. That's just the tip of the iceberg. No, it's the betrayal, the torn emotions that make it. I've never met anyone like your brother. I have always enjoyed breaking women. But your brother, he's something special. Because no matter what I do to him, no matter what he feels inside, he keeps up the mask. Hides the pain. Lashes out with sarcasm. I can't break him. And do you know why?" Dean leaned in closer to Sam making sure their eyes were locked. "Because he's already broken."

"Shut up!" Sam grabbed this sick and twisted version of his brother and slammed him hard into the wall. His anger flared even higher as Dean just laughed at him. "You better hope I find him alive."

"You know what, little Sammy? I do hope you find him alive, he's the best thing I've ever tasted." Once again Dean leaned in close putting his mouth as close to Sam's ear as he could. "If you touch his hip just right, the moan he makes would put a whore to shame."

No longer able to control himself, blind rage flowing through him, Sam punched the monster that looked like his brother over and over again. After the eighth punch, Sam managed to collect himself. Dean's cheek and lip were cut and a trail of blood dripped from his nose, but still the creature laughed.

"What's wrong, Samantha? Can't handle the truth?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"Already have." Dean grinned maliciously up at the younger man, relishing the turbulent emotions pouring off of Sam. If he had found these brothers long ago he could satisfy himself for months, if not years, tormenting them. It was all too easy.

Sam kicked the man, knocking him to the ground. Heart racing, breathing in hefty gulps, Sam couldn't even begin to express the loathing he felt right now for this creature. Whatever it was, he vowed no matter what, no matter how, he was going to kill it. It didn't deserve to live. Not after what it did to Dean.

Backing away, he grabbed his things and stuffed the folder and blade inside. He banged on the door hard enough to make the side of his fist numb, then called out to the guard. "I'm done."

Locks released and the door swung open. Once outside, the officer looked at him. "Nice piece of work, isn't he?"

Calming his tone and doing his best to exhibit the professional demeanor he was supposed to be presenting, Sam looked at the cop. "Officer, it is my professional opinion that this man be kept under constant observation. Under no circumstances should this man be left on his own. He exhibited a number of mental instabilities and even went as far as hitting himself to the point of bleeding. He threatened myself and everyone else while I was in there. I tried to keep him calm but he fought me. I will take this experience and we will contact you shortly with further instructions." With that, Sam turned and started to leave.

When he got to the waiting room, Jenn sprang to her feet and immediately sensed something was wrong. "Sam, what is it, what happened?"

Not bothering to speak right then, Sam grabbed her arm and guided her out of the building. "Sam, what is it? Tell me what happened."

Sam didn't respond until they were back inside the car. "I don't know how he did it, but the man in that room may have looked like my brother, may have sounded like my brother, hell in many ways even acted like my brother, but one thing I know for sure, he was _not_ my brother."

"You're not making any sense, Sam. They ran prints, I believe they even ran some DNA tests against evidence they got from Becky's house. They can't have made a mistake."

"I'm telling you that thing was not my brother. I just don't know how he did it. He had his memories and everything. Can they even do that? Dammit!" Back in the day, they were a team. Dad had the know how. Dean played the hero. And Sam did the research. But now there was no dad and no Dean, so what was he supposed to do? He needed answers. Looking back up at a very confused and scared Jenn, he asked, "We're on our way to see Becky now, right?"

"That was the plan but I'm not so sure we should. You haven't really explained what happened in there. And with you this distraught, I'm not sure it would be a good idea to approach Becky in such a manner. I think we should head to the Hotel."

"No, we can't. My brother's life may depend on what she can tell me. I have to see her now."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"He said he may already be dead now. I can't give up on him. Dean's too stubborn to die. But I have to find him before it's too late."

"Sam, have you lost it? We just left your brother at the Police Station."

"I already told you, that. wasn't. him!"

"Alright, that's enough. Stop the car." She was about to lean forward and tap on the glass between the driver and passengers but Sam stopped her. "Let go of me!"

Taking a deep breath, Sam tried to calm down. "Jenn, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Well you did."

"I know and I'm sorry. I'll try to explain, but I'm sure if I do you'll think I'm even crazier than I am now."

"Maybe, maybe not. I've heard some pretty tall tales in my time."

"Then please hear me out."

"Fine, but it better be good or I book us a flight back tonight."

"I know what I'm about to tell you is going to be hard to believe but it's all true, I swear. Remember how I told you that I kinda walked out on my family when I went to Stanford? Well, that's because my dad wanted me to go into the family business and I didn't want to."

"What the hell does that have to do with all this?"

"It's because of what we did for a living. We were hunters."

"What like game hunters or bounty hunters?"

"Neither. We hunted the supernatural."

Jenn laughed. "Right, Ghost Hunters," she said sardonically.

"Among other things."

"What? You can't be serious."

"We've faced ghosts, werewolves, wendigos."

"What the hell is a wendigo?"

"They are creatures that started out as human that lived out in the wilderness. And then by isolation or some other reason they turn cannibal and start to eat human flesh."

"That's disgusting."

"Yeah, well, not to them. You see, they believe that by consuming human flesh they gain powers. They eventually turn into a creature that can move faster than the eye can see, mimic sounds and voices, and have the strength of a hundred men. They can also live for hundreds of years. They typically hibernate for a period of time, waking up to gorge themselves for another hibernation. The only thing that can kill them is fire."

"This is ridiculous. What do you take me for?"

"I'm not making fun of you, I swear."

"So what are you trying to tell me? That your brother is some weird supernatural creature?"

"It's possible. It would explain a lot of things. And think about it, every culture has some kind of lore about twins, dopplegangers and shapeshifters. It was immune to Holy water but its skin burned when I cut him with silver."

"Woah, woah, woah. When you asked to stop at that church to pray you were really going in there to get Holy Water? And then you made your brother drink it to see if he was some kind of monster? And how did you get a knife inside? We were both searched before we were permitted in there."

"I know a few tricks. Like I said, this was the family business. I've been doing this all my life. I know my brother and I'm telling you, that wasn't him."

"Ok, say I buy into your messed up little reality for the moment. If you truly believe that the man being held as Dean Winchester is not really your brother, then there's only one way to prove that."

"By finding the real Dean Winchester." Sam finished for her then went on. "And that is why we need to talk to Becky _now_. She was the last person I know to have seen my brother."

Shaking her head, Jenn slouched back into the bench seat and rubbed her hands over her face mumbling. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I must be going insane." She allowed her gaze to wander the inside of the car as she stored all the new information Sam just told her, she finally settled on the younger man deflating further. "Against my better judgment, I'm going to believe you for the moment, Sam. So you better not make me regret it."

Grateful for the trust and an ally in his search, Sam hugged the older woman. "Thank you! Oh God, thank you, Jenn. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"You're welcome, Sam. Now if you could please let me go, I'd really appreciate it."

Smiling, Sam released her. "Sorry."

"It's ok. But if you want to get the charges against your brother dropped we have got a lot of work to do and we are fighting astronomical odds here."

"Story of my life."

"And if you want my help with this, then I need full disclosure. I'm coming in with you when you talk to Becky."

"Deal."

"We're running out of time." Jenn reached forward and tapped on the glass. When the driver slid it open she said, "Can you get us to the Hospital as fast as you can? And I mean, break a few limits here. I'll cover it in my expenses if you get caught. And there will be a big tip in it for you too."

"Yes ma'am!"

And the race to find the real Dean Winchester began.

- S – P –N – S – P – N –

Well, I am sure most of you guessed it, but hope you appreciated the rouse. Thanks for reading!

For all those who have fave'd and alerted this fic, THANK YOU! Keep them coming. And special thanks to my reviewers, it's always great hearing from you!

See you next week!

~Ari :D


	3. Becky

About twenty minutes later, after getting through the annoying Security Clearance Check, Sam walked into Becky's room.

"Sam! Oh my God, I can't believe you're here!" She said as she stood and hugged the taller man.

"I had to come after I heard about the attack." He released her and guided her back to the bed. "How are you doing?"

"Honestly, I just want to go home. But since they say it's a crime scene and I'm a key witness, I should stay here until they can make sure it's safe."

"Becky, I would like you to meet Jenn Abernathy. She works with me at Towsen and Towsen."

Cautiously, Becky looked over at the woman. Jenn offered a warm smile to help put the girl at ease and held out her hand. "Hello, Rebecca. I'm sorry about everything that has happened to you and your family. I know how trying this can all be. Just know that we are here to help."

Becky took the hand and held it for a moment before letting go. "Thanks, I just can't believe it all." The girl was on the verge of tears as memories started to come back up to the surface.

Sam sat across from Becky and took her hands in his. "I know. And I really hate to do this to you, but I need you to tell me what happened." A tear slipped from red-rimmed eyes. "I'm so sorry, Becky. I really am, but we need to know. It's vital."

"I know, it's just all so messed up." She sniffled.

"Yeah, it is." Soothingly, he caressed her hands with his thumbs hoping to ease her into his next question. "Becky, who attacked you?"

"That FBI guy I told you about in my e-mail." Her voice cracked.

Sam glanced over to Jenn at that. Looking back at his friend, he asked, "Have the Police spoken to you since the attack?"

"Only to tell me that they had him in custody and that I could still be in danger. And to ask me a whole bunch of questions."

"So they haven't told you anything else about your attacker?"

"No, why?" Suddenly worried, her eyes darted between them. "Did he escape or something?"

"No," he reassured her. "No, he's still in jail. But we do know one thing. He wasn't FBI."

"Then who was he?"

"Someone else. And not who the Police think he is either. This guy is twisted. And somehow he is pulling one over on the police, which is why you need to tell me everything. And I mean everything Becky, no matter how strange or weird it all sounds, I want to know it all. It's very important." Sam hoped his voice sounded sincere rather than eager and desperate, no matter how eager and desperate he really was. Fortunately, his father's training was stronger than the few years he was out of the biz.

Becky frowned, her hands fidgeting in Sam's hold. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Trust me, I know a lot more than you probably think already. What happened?"

"Well, the first time I met him, he was very professional. He asked me some questions and seemed like he really wanted to help. It's funny actually, he kinda said the same thing that you did just now. That I should tell him everything, no matter how weird or strange as it could help. That's when I told him about the break in at Zach's a few days before…the Police said it had no bearing on Zach's case and ignored it."

"Someone broke in? Did they take anything?"

"Just some of Zach's clothes."

"What else?" He coaxed encouragingly.

"He asked me about anything else that changed around the house, and I mentioned the neighbor's dog. It used to be the sweetest thing, now it barks and growls all the time, as if it's ready to attack."

Sam ran all the information through his mind. Slowly the pieces were starting to fall into place. He was on the verge of figuring things out but it still remained just out of reach. Based upon all the information he had thus far, he could make an educated guess, but what if he was wrong. Dean's life depended on his ability to figure out the creature in the jail and take it out. It took a moment for him to realize Becky was still talking.

"But when he came back, he seemed different."

"How so?"

"Well, he hit on me several times with cheesy pick up lines." She scoffed at the memory. "He even tried to feed me some sob story about how his mother died when he was a kid and then his family abandoned him. And how all he wanted was to be loved."

Sam swallowed hard at that comment. How the hell did this thing know so much about his brother and their family? "Is that all?"

Becky's shoulders fell. "I told you, you won't believe me. I didn't even tell the cops because it was so crazy."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. Gently, he demanded, "What didn't you tell them? Please, Becky, it could be important."

"Well, I asked him if he had any new information on Zach's case. He said that there had been some new developments but that I wouldn't believe him. I kept pushing and he finally decided to tell me, but it must have just been some kind of sick joke because it just couldn't be real." With a dramatic sigh, Becky continued, "He said he was some kind of Monster Hunter. That he went after creatures most people didn't believe in like werewolves and vampires. That some shapeshifter changed into my brother and did all those horrible things. But it can't be real, can it?" She looked pleadingly into Sam's eyes.

But he couldn't keep her gaze long, and soon turned to look at Jenn. He could read Jenn's expression as easily as Becky's right now. Everything Becky just said only confirmed what Sam had told her in the car. She believed him. And according to Becky's story the creature named himself. He had verification. Now all he had to do was figure out how to kill it and save his brother.

As Becky looked between them, she recognized some sort of mutual understanding there. Realization hit hard. "Oh my God. It's not true. It's impossible."

Sam offered his friend a wan smile, hoping to cushion the blow. "I'm sorry Becky, but for once, it was telling the truth."

"Oh God!" Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. "I told him that he was making things up. I didn't believe him. Told him to get out. That's when he got angry. Started talking about himself like it was someone else. About his family. It didn't make any sense to me. All I wanted was to get away from him. But he went after me and started… And now you're telling me it was some kind of monster who only looked like an FBI Agent?"

"Yes, after you talked to the FBI, the FBI agent must have picked up on his trail but got caught instead. This shapeshifter somehow can steal memories too. It probably realized that you knew more than you should. That you could be a threat and decided to go after you. And since you knew your brother was in jail, there was no way he could approach you like that, so he took the shape of someone you knew and wouldn't suspect."

Conflicted but curious, Becky asked, "Then what happened to the real FBI agent?"

Sam sighed. "That's what I'm trying to find out. That's why you need to tell me everything. Because that creature did tell you the truth on some things. He wasn't FBI, he was a Hunter."

"How do you know?"

"Becky, this is going to be even harder to believe, but I know because I'm a Hunter too. It was the family business. And the man you spoke to this past weekend wasn't an FBI Agent, he was my brother."

Becky sat back. This was far too much to take. And none of it was making any sense. Was this all some sort of sick joke? Was Sam, a man she considered a caring friend, toying with her? Taking advantage of her desperate situation. She just couldn't believe it. Her anger flared. "You're lying! Why would you say such things!"

For the first time, Jenn joined the conversation, "He's not lying, Becky." She said calmly. "All you have to do is ask the police. Right now they are holding a Dean Winchester on charges of assault and battery and attempted Murder of Rebecca Warren."

"You're both insane." Becky's eyes darted back and forth between them accusingly.

"Listen to me Becky, just think about it for a second." Sam allowed his own desperation to bleed through. He needed her help or he might never find his brother. So he bared his soul and spoke honestly. "You said he talked about his family. That they walked out on him. Well, it's all true. I didn't want to Hunt, so I left them to go to Stanford. Why do you think I never talked about my family? Because no one would believe what we did. And I wanted to leave it all behind. But they still hunted without me. It's what they do. Help people."

Rubbing her temples, Becky tried to assimilate everything with little result. "I just don't know what to think any more." But her resolve was weakening. Despite her doubt, both stories were starting to coalesce. Could it really be true?

Recognizing that she was beginning to weaken, Sam decided it was now or never. "It might make it easier if you just start from the beginning. Tell me everything about the night Zach was arrested."

Over the next ten minutes, Becky told them everything they wanted to know. "So you see, he couldn't have done it, unless Zach was in two places at one time," she finished.

Sam gave her a sad grin. "And now you know how that is possible."

"But the police said that they were able to match finger prints and DNA samples." She protested.

"It looks like this shapeshifter can take on more than just the appearance. It can create a virtually identical version of the person right down to memories and DNA. It's remarkable."

"It's terrifying."

"Becky," Jenn started, "You said that your brother was caught on a security camera in front of their apartment. If that's true than why doesn't it show him walking into the apartment twice? Once as the fake Zach and once as the real Zach."

Becky shrugged, "Because they park in a lot close by and it's easier to go in the back door. He rarely uses the front."

Sam is beginning to follow the line of thought. Aloud, he says, "So we have a shot of the Shifter going in. And then one of the Police taking Zach out. But we don't have one of Zach going in or the Shifter leaving, which means he must have left through the back door."

"Then we have to get to Zach's apartment and check it out. There could still be a trail there. The police caught the perp inside, no need to look for signs of escape." Jenn added.

"Right, we should go." Sam agreed and turned to his friend, "Thanks, Becky for everything. And try not to worry, we will find a way to get your brother and the rest of the victims free."

"Thanks, Sam." The two hug. As they break apart, Becky wishes, "And good luck finding your brother."

He nods and then walks out of the room with Jenn right behind. "Sam, I know you want to start looking right now, but we need to get to the Hotel first. If we are going to be searching around for clues, then I have to get out of this monkey suit and so should you." She gestured to her crisp business attire and his jacket and dress pants.

San didn't really want to delay any further, but getting into more comfortable clothing probably would be best. Who knows how long they would be searching. Reluctantly, he acquiesced to her proposal. "Alright. But as soon as I'm done, I'm outta there."

"Don't worry, I'll be ready."

The pair left the hospital.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, that's it for now. Good news is that this is the shortest chapter thus far for this story, all the rest will be longer! Hehe. Who knows, depending on reviews and how far I can get with the chapter I'm currently writing, I may even post the next chapter a little earlier. *nudge, nudge, wink, wink*

Anyway, Thank you all for those who have reviewed, faved and alerted this fic! You don't know how happy you have made me and my muse! And my muse is a fickle bitch, so that's awesome! Lol.

Just a quick shout out to Sharebear! Thanks. I hope you enjoyed this installment too. Definitely more to come. :D

Much love and thanks!

~Ari :D


	4. The Search

All checked in and changed, Jenn knocked on Sam's door. He let her in and then went back to the papers spread across his bed. She took in his perplexed expression and frowned. "I thought you wanted to leave right after you got changed."

"I do. It's just something is bothering me about all this. I don't want to make any mistakes. Dean's life could depend on it. We can't search the whole city. We have to narrow things down. I just wish I had a map, without having to boot up my computer."

Jenn went and sat on the bed next to Sam. "Well, why don't you check the Yellow pages? They usually put a map in there."

"Of course!" Sam sprang from the bed and started searching the drawers in the night stand. He found it within moments and pulled out the hefty book. It only took a few seconds for him to find the maps. "Right, read off the addresses starting with Becky's and I'll mark them down."

Jenn sifted through the papers getting the information requested and read them off. When she was done, Sam looked over the map. "It looks like he's staying in a twenty block radius. There's got to be some building in the area he's been using as a base."

"Well, sitting around here won't help us find it any faster, we need to get out there and look." She slapped her thighs and stood ready to go. But Sam hadn't moved, in fact he seemed to have slumped further.

"And that's the other problem."

"What is?"

"It's going to be dark soon and we aren't prepared to go wandering around. We need supplies and weapons."

"What, you mean like guns and flashlights?" She asked. Sam nodded. "Well, unless things have really changed, you can't just go into a store and pickup a bunch of guns without raising suspicion. And unless we check out the seedier areas and find someone selling stuff out the back of a car, then we are out of luck."

Sam's eyes popped wide open and he jumped to his feet. "You're a genius!" He reached out and grabbed her shoulders then planted a kiss on her forehead.

Startled but the sudden change of events, she absently commented, "I am?"

"Yes!"

"Don't follow."

Sam released her then went to get his jacket and tuck the map into his pockets. "We know that Shifter-Dean not only took his looks but his memories, right? Well, Dean drives everywhere which means, he probably used Dean's car. And we also know that Dean was apprehended at Becky's place, which means…"

"That his car is probably still there." Sam nodded and then steered her out of the room. "And how is that supposed to help us?"

"You'll see. Let's get going before we lose all daylight."

- S – P – N –

Jenn paid the cabby while Sam started looking up and down the streets and alleys near Becky's place. "Sam, wait up." When she caught up to him, she asked, "So what kind of car are we looking for?"

"Don't worry, I'll know her when I see her." Just then Sam caught sight of a black rear panel peeking out of an alley between houses. In a whisper that held more emotion than he cared to admit, Sam said, "There she is."

He led Jenn down the street until he was able to take in the full sight of the Impala. "Wow," he heard Jenn speak behind him. "This is a classic. And well kept too."

"This is Dean's pride and joy. It's practically family in his eyes."

"So what now?"

"Now we need to get in the trunk."

"And you have the keys, right?"

"Nope." Sam replied as he knelt down and reached into the undercarriage at the back of the car. "But after losing keys in the midst of a battle or getting separated, Dean placed a spare in a magnetic case under the car for emergencies. All we have to do is find it."

Waiting, Jenn watched as Sam searched blindly for the key. After a few minutes and no luck, Jenn began to question if there really was a key. But before she could say so, Sam let out a joyful 'Ah-ha.' As he crawled out from under the car, he waggled the little metal box for her to see, then slid it open to reveal a key. "Now just prepare yourself. What you are about to see can be a little intense for some people."

With ease, Sam unlocked the trunk and lifted the lid. Jenn peered inside and saw a couple of half-empty bags, a crowbar, a jack and some miscellaneous things scattered about the trunk. "Are you kidding? This is practically cleaner than my own trunk."

"I wasn't talking about that, I was talking about this." Reaching in, Sam yanked open the second lid to reveal the arsenal underneath and heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Oh my, are those real?"

"Yeah, but we only use a few when hunting, depending on the critter. Do you know how to shoot?" Sam started packing a bag with various items as he searched the trunk.

"Not really, no. Took a self-defense course once and one day they showed us how guns work and how to shoot, but that's about it. And no, I'm not going to start carrying one now."

"Fair enough. Hopefully, with Shifter-Dean in custody, we shouldn't run into any more trouble. But it's always better to be safe than sorry."

"Whatever."

"Let me just finish grabbing a few things out of the back here and then we can drive over to Zach's."

- S – P – N –

They arrived at Zach's apartment as dusk set in. Getting out of the car, Sam spoke, "We better take a look around outside first while we still have a little light left. We can go inside after."

"Good. I would like to avoid entry if possible. If we go in and contaminate the scene, it could not only hurt Zach's case but Dean's as well. We already know what happened in there. The perp went in the front and somehow left without notice. We should concentrate on how he did it and where he went."

"Alright, but if we can't see anything out here, I will go inside. Anything we can find to lead us to Dean is worth the risk."

"Maybe so, but only if we have no other option." Now that that was settled, the two began searching around the building, walking back and forth searching for anything that might help them.

It seemed hopeless. There wasn't much and with the light fading so fast, it was getting harder to see. They had gone around the building three times yielding nothing. They were so close, Sam could feel it, but if they didn't find anything soon they would have to wait til morning before coming back to try again. Frustrated, he fell back against a telephone pole groaning.

Jenn looked up at him sadly. She couldn't even begin to understand the world they lived in. But she did understand what he was going through. So many of their clients had the same lost and weary look that she now saw on his face. She wished there was something she could do to take that look away, it didn't suit him she thought. Her gaze shifted slightly and she noticed a dark smudge on the pole behind him. "Sam?"

"What?" He asked without looking. But when she didn't respond he opened his eyes and caught her stare. Taking a step away, he turned to see what she was looking at and noticed it almost immediately. He leaned in close to examine it. After a moment he said, "Blood. He must have run this way while escaping. Quick, look around to see if you can find any more spots."

They scoured the area only to come up empty handed again. Sam kicked a trash bin and screamed. Roughly, he combed his fingers into his hair and locked them in place. "How did he do it?" He demanded, both hands resting on top of his head. "Because I can't figure it out. Not unless Shapeshifters can fly too."

"Well, that would suck. Because if he could fly, then that means he could have gone anywhere." Her thoughts seemed to float after the Shapeshifter and without realizing, it she spoke them out loud. "Although, I think someone might notice a person flying around with blood all over him. No, he would want to go somewhere that he could hide away in and not be seen, especially looking all bloody. Even the sidewalks would draw too much attention. He could try running along the roofs but that could be difficult with the different heights and some of the distances between buildings. If he couldn't go up and he couldn't walk the streets, then what other way could he have gone?"

At that question, Sam's eyebrows shot up. Releasing his hands, he began scanning the ground around them and found exactly what he was looking for. It was Jenn's turn to follow his gaze and groan. "Why did I have to open my big mouth? You can't seriously expect me to go down there, can you?"

"As you said, no prying eyes, with tunnels and access to anywhere the sewer is connected to, he could easily move around. It's the best choice."

"For a slimy lowlife like him, not me."

"Fine, wait for me in the car. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"What? You can't leave me here. Besides, you said it could be dangerous. What if you need help? What if something happens to you?"

Sam shrugged. "Then come. Look, I know its nasty, believe me, but if my brother's down there, I have to find him. Because if roles were reversed, he would do the same for me."

Jenn could hear what he was saying. Even respected it. But this was all so new to her, and it was taking her some time to adjust. Swallowing hard, she made a decision. "Alright. I'll come with you. I don't think I could take it, just sitting around waiting for you and not knowing what's going on. I never did well with stuff like that. Christmas was more traumatizing for me than merry. So let's go find your brother."

"Great, let me grab the bag and we'll head down."

Ten minutes later, Sam was making sure she didn't fall as she climbed down the ladder into the sewer. When she reached the bottom, she gagged and held up the cuff of her shirt to her nose. She said the first thing that came to her head. "What a wonderful new smell you've discovered."

Sam laughed as he recognized the quote. "Come on, you get used to it after a while."

"Not me, mister. This is a once in a lifetime experience for me."

Grinning, he handed her one of the 2 flashlights he already had on, adjusted the bag over his shoulder and started walking.

For a while they walked in silence. Each one carefully making their way through the grimy tunnel. Jenn gagged again, "Ugh, is it me or is the smell actually getting worse?"

"No, you're right. It's smelling more like rotting flesh than waste."

"I don't even want to know how you know that."

Just then something caught in the beam of his flashlight. "What's that?" As they got closer, it looked like a lump of skin and blood lay in the walkway. Sam knelt down and pulled out a pen from his pocket and started to poke at it. Slowly they could start to make out pieces of body.

"Is that an ear?" Jenn asked shakily, before her stomach turned violently. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick." Quickly she turned back and found a kind of cubby along the walk and threw up into it.

Sam waited patiently for her to finish while he continued to examine the skin. When she finally stopped and managed to walk back over, he tried to take her mind off of things by breaking it down, making it impersonal so she could detach herself from it for a while. "This must be how he does it. Kinda like a snake, shedding one skin and replacing it with another. Trading the old persona for a new one. If this is down here then we must be getting closer to its lair. Let's just hope he's been keeping Dean there and we can get him out."

"Fine, then let's hurry up and keep going. I want to get out of here as soon as possible." Jenn covered her moth with an arm again doing her best to stave off another wave of nausea.

They pressed on, following the twisting tunnel, checking offshoots and making turns when necessary. Soon they came across another discarded skin. Jenn managed to swallow the bile back down as they started finding more in various states of decay. The smell was getting unbearable. And just suddenly they came into a space that could almost be construed as a room.

The soft glow of emergency lights made it a little easier to see. It didn't take much for them to realize that this must be the monster's lair. All sorts of blankets and clothes were strewn about. And they could see little knick-knacks lying around too. It appeared that the shifter collected things from his victims.

As everything slowly sank in, the two suddenly glanced at each other, a sense of urgency overpowering them. "Dean!" Sam called as he frantically began looking for any signs of his brother. Jenn followed close behind, swinging her light in the opposite direction to cover as much of the room as possible. When they got to the other end, their hearts sank. "Did you see anything, anything at all?" He asked her and she shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes.

If Dean wasn't here, there was little chance that they would ever find San's brother alive, if they found anything at all. It was too heartbreaking to consider.

Sam was lost in his own thoughts. Logic told him one thing and an empty room another. "No, this isn't right. He's got to be here. He's just got to be."

The frustration and anger were quickly building in the young man. Jenn's own doubts bubble to the surface. "You don't know that Sam. That creature could have been tricking you. Maybe he lied-"

"No! No, that can't be. Just give me a second to think." He paced the narrow space. "He knew too much about us; like he had somehow tapped into Dean's memories. He was seen at least at two of the locations and he always fled. He could have just killed the person he was impersonating and no one would have been the wiser, but he didn't. That has to mean something. Maybe, maybe in order to access the memories there's some kind of mental link. Maybe that link can't be severed while he's wearing their skin. Which means he would need to keep Dean alive. And that would mean he would need to be able to get to Dean when he needed, which would put us back here."

"But he's not here, Sam."

A noise in the back of the room startled them into silence. Quickly they both focused their flashlights in the area and saw nothing. Sam looked at her then darted in the direction of the noise. "Dean? Dean!"

Another sound of movement could be heard but they saw nothing. That is until a beam of light landed on a tarp in the corner that wrinkled slightly in the light.

In an instant he was there pulling at the coarse material. What he uncovered broke his heart and infuriated him in the same moment. And all Sam could manage as the air in his lungs escaped him was a breathy, "Dean."

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

I had promised myself if I got to page 75 in my draft before Friday then I would post another chapter. I hope you liked it. I am just so happy the I am still writing and know where I'm going – which is apparently to bed as I'm struggling horribly to keep my eyes open.

The Good news is that you won't have to wait long for the next chapter. I will still post on Monday. However, seeing as this is the beginning of Valentine's Day weekend, I know my muse would appreciate you showing how much you love or enjoy this story, so please Review if you have a moment. Your feedback really jazzes my muse up. And I'm such a Stat-whore, I love seeing the hits, Faves, Alerts and Reviews go up! So thank you all!

Before I go, a quick shout out to: Anonymous and Shawna – Thank you both so much for reading and reviewing! Your thoughts mean a lot to me. :D

Much love for all my readers. See you again Monday. ;)

~Ari :D


	5. Dean

Even now, he could see that Dean was unconscious, yet the older man still flinched and cowered as the light washed over him. As he crept closer, gingerly he touched his brother's cheek and felt the sting in his eyes as Dean automatically tried to shrink back from the pain and suffering that was sure to come. Never in his life had he seen Dean looking so vulnerable. The sight shattered his world.

In the weak light, he tried to take quick stock of his brother's condition. His wrists were raw from the handcuffs that bound him to the piping behind. Skin bruised and dirty, a mixture of blood, sweat and who knew what else. As he continued to pull the tarp down, Sam realized that every shred of protection that Dean layered on him had been removed. All he could see was pale skin mottled with yellow, purple and black bruises. Knicks and cuts covered his body, many scabbed over but some still slowly oozing. Sam would not be surprised if a number of the cuts were infected.

Anger didn't even come close to what Sam felt right then. Loathing and unyielding hatred barely scratched the surface. Suddenly, Sam wished he hadn't stopped beating the creature. It deserved so much more. Pushing down the fury inside, he had more urgent matters at hand. He pulled the bag from his shoulder and started sifting through the contents. Without looking at her, he instructed Jenn. "Can you please find some clothes for Dean?" She silently moved away leaving the brothers relatively alone.

Sam worked on the handcuffs, desperate to free him. It disturbed him greatly that Dean hadn't looked up or spoken or done anything else as he worked. When the binders popped open, he quickly drew the older man to him, cradling him as best as he could in the awkward space. "Dean, come on man, wake up. It's me, Sammy. I'm here. I'm here for you," he soothed.

Too slowly for Sam's liking, Dean cracked open cloudy eyes. He stared up trying to focus on the face in front of him but gave up. A slight shake of his head, he croaked, "Sammy? Is it..are you.."

"Yeah, it's really me. I'm here man. I came for you, ya big jerk."

"How?" The shock of his brother's arrival roused him from the pain filled haze he had lingered in for what felt like forever. A thousand and one questions filled his brain, but Sam effectively put them on the back burner.

"Later. Right now let's get you out of here. Jenn's working on some clothes for you." At Dean's questioning glance, Sam added, "She works with me at the firm I'm interning at. She's here to help. Can you tell me what hurts?"

At that, Dean snorted. "Pick something."

"Right, everything. Anything I should be careful of?"

This turn of events was more than Dean could have hoped for, and despite a couple years apart, what had been engrained in him from childhood quickly kicked in. Protect his little brother at all costs. Dean grimaced as he tried to sit up and failed miserably. "Leg, ribs, shoulder," he conceded, although he was becoming more alert by the second.

Sam frowned. "Great, anything else?"

Dean shook his head. "I'll manage. Just get me outta here."

"Working on it bro." Calling over his shoulder, Sam asked. "Jenn, clothes?"

"Coming." And a moment later she was standing over his shoulder holding some things out for him. "I couldn't really see what size he was from the tarp. But considering you, I think these might work."

"Good," said Sam as he looked the garments over, "give me a sec to get him ready and then we'll leave."

"Right." Jenn retreated again into the background.

Sam focused his attention once again on his brother. "Think you can sit up?" Dean nodded and Sam held up a button down shirt for him to slip into.

Struggling a little still, Dean managed to get up and then tried to work his arms through the sleeves, but his shoulder proved uncooperative. Trying to take his mind off the pain that shot through his arm and back as his younger brother eased him into the shirt, Dean ground out through clenched teeth, "Sammy, it's a Shapeshifter."

"I know. He's in jail right now, dressed as you."

"Always did look good in stripes," Dean tried to joke.

It fell flat as Sam noticed the lines of bruises on his brother's side and back. "I'm going to kill that bastard." Sam growled low.

Dean glanced at him quickly before saying, "Get in line. I got first dibs."

"Fair enough. Just leave enough for me to make it hurt."

"Easy there tiger." Soulful green eyes watched the younger man for a moment. Dean was surprised that his normally level headed brother was now proclaiming violence. This was not like the boy who had left for college and a normal life. He commented, "You know that isn't exactly your M.O."

"It is now, Dean." Sam worked on the buttons of Dean's shirt as he spoke. His raging emotions bleeding through his words. "I mean look at what that bastard did to you. You could have died down here. You would have been blamed for what's happening around here and no one would even think to look for you. Honestly, I'm surprised Dad isn't out there all over this thing, looking for you." He noticed how Dean's gaze fell at the mention of their father. _What the hell happened while I was gone?_

"Can we talk about this later, Sammy?" Dean really wasn't in the mood to discuss their missing father at the moment.

"Sure." Holding out some pants, Sam offered them to Dean. But when his brother grimaced at the garment he asked, "Do you need help?" Dean's reluctant nod caused his worry to spike. The fact that his brother was admitting to needing help alone told him how bad it was.

Carefully, Sam moved around his brother so he could slide the pants up Dean's legs. He pushed up the tarp and gasped at what he saw.

Dean's right knee was a mess. Apart from the various cuts and discoloration from bruising, it was swollen to almost twice its normal size. "Jesus," he hissed. No wonder his brother needed help getting pants on. Thinking quickly, he retrieved a knife from his bag and used it to slice the pant leg. "Alright, try and relax while we do this. Ready?" At Dean's nod, Sam began the arduous task of slipping the material over his brother's abused limbs.

Agony stabbed through Dean the moment Sam moved his leg even a fraction of an inch. He fell back, biting his lip to hold in the grunt of pain he couldn't quite keep from escaping. Eyes clenched closed, hands fisted in a vice-like grip on anything he could grab hold of, the pounding beat of his heart drowning out all other noise and the copper tang in his mouth from biting his lip too hard was all he knew until Sam finished. It took a couple of extra moments for him to register the muttered reassurances of his brother.

"It's ok. It's over. It's done. You with me?" Sam moved closer to his brother, waiting for the pain to subside. "Dean."

"Son of a bitch," the elder Winchester finally ground out. Taking quick, shallow breathes he worked through the pain until it was back down to a manageable level – well, manageable Winchester level, anyway. After another few minutes, Dean pushed himself up and held out a hand for Sam to take. Sam remained still, a look of confusion on his face. Dean uttered a strained "Help me up."

"Dean, that's not a good idea. You're knee looks really bad." The younger man protested.

"And how else you think you're gonna get me outta here, huh Sam? The closest access point is at least 100 yards away?"

"I know, it's just we don't know how bad it is and we might make it worse."

"Yeah, and sitting around down here in this hellhole is doing wonders." Dean argued. This place had given him nothing but pain and nightmares. "I just want out."

Sam agreed, "Ok, but you're not walking on it. I'll take one side and Jenn will take the other."

"I'll be fine. And there's not enough room to maneuver in these tunnels for that. I can use the walls."

But Sam wasn't about to risk further injury. "No, I don't want you putting any pressure on that leg. You either do it my way or I'll leave you here."

"Wouldn't be much of a rescue then, would it?" But when Sam crossed his arms and glared, Dean knew his stubborn brother was not going to budge on this. "Fine, you don't want to help, then I'll do it on my own." Taking a deep breath, Dean rolled onto his side. He grabbed hold of the pipes along the wall and prepared to pull himself up. He managed to get his good leg beneath him before his strength gave out and he flopped back with a yelp.

"You stubborn jerk. Are you finished? Because I got tired of the macho show a long time ago." The heated glare he got in response didn't faze the youngest Winchester. He had seen it all before and wasn't impressed by it. "Now are you ready to do it my way, for a change?"

"Fine, bitch. But only you. There's not enough room to go 2 wide, let alone three."

"Fine." Sam collected everything he had taken out of the bag and put them back in, zipping it closed. He held it out and looked at the patient woman standing just at the edge of visibility. "Can you please carry this?"

Offering a shaky smile, she whispered, "Sure." Crossing the short distance between them, she reached for the bag and caught sight of the swollen limb beneath the cut fabric in the added light of her torch. "Oh my god!" It was her first real look at it. And it looked horrible. Any misgivings about interfering with their reunion fled as frustration took over. "What the hell were you thinking trying to get up by yourself? You trying to lose that leg?"

"Well, nice to meet you too. Dean Winchester, Sammy's good looking brother." The smile he offered did nothing for his pale complexion.

She ignored his weak attempt at humour and snatched the bag from Sam. "We've got to get you to a Hospital."

"No Hospitals!" The brother's said in unison.

"Don't you start," she snapped back at Sam. "This isn't normal. He might have a shattered knee cap or torn something. Either way, he needs a doctor."

"No offense, lady, but none of this is normal. And no doctors."

"Well, it's not going to get better on its own. You need professional help. And not just for your knee." There was no denying he looked like death warmed over, there was no telling what else could be wrong.

"I'll be fine. Sammy can patch me up." Dean didn't need someone to tell him what he did and didn't need, let alone some 'outsider.' Still, she was providing him with some help. Anger, he could use anger. Without backing down from her steady gaze, he held out his hand again for Sam. This time though, his brother caught it and pulled him carefully to his feet.

Dean swayed a little as he fought against the rush of blood to his head and balanced on his good leg. Sam did his best to help steady him. "I gotcha." Carefully, Sam swung Dean's arm over his shoulders and moved in so that their hips touched, effectively making him Dean's right leg.

Wiping at the sweat that sprang from his brow with a dirty sleeve, Dean composed himself hastily. Looking between his rescuers he said, "let's go." He had intended it to be the strong, confident command his father always managed, but it came out in a strained whisper. Fortunately for him though, it still managed to illicit the response he intended.

Sam started easing him forward to the tunnel they came in from. For Dean and all his bravado, from the first step, searing white hot agony jolted through him, and he was left gasping, pale and sweaty by the time they got to the other end of the room. Even that small effort sapped him of his already depleted strength.

They stopped in the door way. "Hey man, you ok?"

Not trusting himself to speak clearly, Dean just breathed. Jenn, squeezed her way around them to stand in front of him. Cautiously, she placed a hand on his forehead and frowned. The fact that he was already soaked through in cold sweat, he had no color left in his face and he didn't even flinch at her touch, screamed at how much pain he was in. She looked to Sam, his expression mirroring her worry. "He's never going to make it all the way back to the car. We've got to at least get him topside and find him a place to rest while one of us goes and gets the car."

"Car?" Dean managed gruffly.

At that, Sam smiled, "Yeah, you're baby's safe and you'll be seeing her soon. She's waiting for you."

"Thas ma girl."

"Look," Jenn cut in, "I understand the whole tough guy routine, I do, but you're not going to make it even with Sam's help. Let me take Sam's place and he can be your real support, before your other leg gives out too. I'm smaller and hopefully I won't bump into you as much, which should hopefully cause less damage to your knee. You need help, let me. Please?"

"Whatever," Dean conceded, "Just want out." He was exhausted and in pain. He wasn't about to argue.

"Thanks." Shifting the bag to her other shoulder, Jenn reached out to take Dean's arm from Sam's shoulder and put it over her own as she slid in to place. Sam easily took position on Dean's left. "Now if it will make you feel better, you can put all your weight on Sam and I'll just be here to hold this side up."

"All right, let's go." And Sam started them off again. Progress was slow and arduous and by the time they managed to find a manhole, all three were sweaty and grimy. The trio stopped to rest for a moment. It had to be well into evening by now. They could only hope that this exit wasn't smack in the middle of a busy street. Sam looked over to Jenn and asked, "Do you think you can hold him while I go up and check?"

They were already slumped against the wall. As long as she leaned in toward him and he was pressed back against her, they should be able to stay on their feet for a few minutes at least. Nodding, she voiced her only concern, "But how are we going to get him up?"

Smirking, Sam replied, "Very carefully."

Dean let out a deep grunt, or it could have been a laugh, it was hard to tell which. When he didn't add a sarcastic comment afterward, Sam frowned and made his way up. For once, they were in luck, the manhole led to an alley not far from a road. They should be able to get out unnoticed and hopefully find a place for Dean to rest. Now it was a matter of getting him up.

Quickly, Sam made his way back down and stood in front of his brother. He spoke gently. "Hey, how you doing?"

"What do you think?" Dean asked hating the gravelly sound to his voice.

"Do you think you're up for this?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Shrugging, Sam answered, "Not really."

"Then stop pussyfooting around it and get this over with."

"How do you want to do this?"

There was a long pause as Dean thought about it. In the end, there was really only one option he could think of. "I want you to go first, Sammy. I can manage to get up using my good leg by taking it one rung at a time, but climbing up over the edge, I may need some help with. Jenn can follow."

"But what if you slip? I can't catch you." Jenn stated.

"No," Dean agreed, "But maybe you can help guide my fall, to keep me from hurting myself further."

"No promises, but I'll try."

"Hopefully, you won't need to. Now hurry on up, Sammy. Daddy misses his baby."

Rolling his eyes, Sam climbed back up the inlaid ladder to street level. He watched as Jenn helped Dean move closer and grab onto the metal rungs. The journey up took forever. Sam could clearly see the exhaustion on his brother's face. This trip was costing him whatever reserves he had left. When he reached the top, Sam leaned over and wrapped his arms under Dean's pits and around the older man. "Alright, here we go."

Sam pulled him most of the way out, but not quite high enough. Dean's feet still dangled just inside the manhole and he tried to find his footing but couldn't. Soon the pair fought for balance and lost. They toppled over. Sam did his best to twist so that Dean pretty much landed on top of him, softening the blow, but it still forced a soul wrenching cry from his brother.

Muttering every curse in the book and then some through tightly clenched teeth, Dean tried to focus on anything other than the burning flame of pain darting through him. It stole his breath away. His brother was talking to him, but his head was pounding so loudly he couldn't hear a thing. So he lay there, eyes tightly closed, hands fisted in Sam's shirt, and counting the seconds until his lungs started working again.

Behind them, Jenn scurried out of the sewer and gulped in the fresh air. Offering up a silent thanks for getting in, finding Dean and getting out again, she decided to let the boys rest. She put the bag down and then went out to check the road. Night had settled in and since it was a weeknight it seemed like the roads were virtually empty. She spotted a bus stop just up the road and thanked God again.

Quickly, she hurried back to them. By now, Sam had gotten out from under his brother and was stretching his aching limbs while Dean just managed to sit up on his own. "Hey, it looks like there's a bus stop just round the corner. There's not a lot of people out so we shouldn't draw too much attention to ourselves, unless you changed your mind and want to go to the hospital?" She asked hopefully.

No such luck. Dean was already shaking his head no. "I'm good."

"Like hell you are."

"Listen," Sam cut in, "I know you mean well, but right now we have to take care of this on our own."

"Do you have medical training? Because I sure as hell don't. And he _needs_ a doctor."

"Doesn't matter what I _need_, just that I _can't_ go." Dean looked at her pointedly.

"Why not?" She argued.

Sam answered, "Because right now, Dean Winchester is wanted for attempted murder among other things. If we walk in to the hospital, they're going to ask questions. If the cops find out he's there, they'll arrest him thinking he escaped. And we'll be putting him back in the Shifter's hands." He tried to ignore the shiver that he could see run through his brother. It was just so wrong.

"Sam's right." Dean continued, " He said that the thing is in jail right now pretending to be me. We can't risk the chaos that in itself might cause. Besides, we need to figure out a way to fix all this and get those people cleared. I can't help if I'm in jail."

"I think you've done enough. At least," her eyes flickered over to Sam quickly so he knew she really didn't like all this even if she was going along with it, "if you insist on forgoing treatment until the entire situation is resolved, you can let Sam and I take the lead on this while you concentrate on yourself for a bit."

"No can do, sweetheart. I started this hunt, so I got to finish it." Despite his condition, Dean's tone was firm. Their father had taught them to always finish the job and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Jenn still wasn't convinced. "And how do you plan to pull that off? You can't even stand."

"Let me worry about that." Dean snapped back ready to keep this argument going.

"That's enough you two." Sam literally stepped in between them with hands raised. "You know I have a feeling this conversation would go more smoothly once we're back at the hotel, cleaned up and fed."

With two against one, Jenn knew she didn't stand a chance. "Since neither of you seem likely to back down and see reason, I guess I'll just have to do as you say." As way of a peace offering, she added, "I'll order up some room service. Would you like anything special Dean? As the fake you has been in custody for almost 24 hours, and I can't imagine him feeding you, you must be hungry. And it will help you get some of your strength back."

Sam and Jenn maneuvered themselves to help Dean up by taking their positions again. "Oh Darling, you ain't kidding, just get me the greasiest thing on the menu, in fact get me 2 of them."

"That isn't what I meant, but I'll see what I can do."

Grinning, Dean said, "You'll be my hero for life if you do."

The trek to the bus stop stole what little energy Dean had left. Originally, Jenn and Sam tried to ease him down on to the bench, but he managed to convince them to prop him up on the ground in the corner. It would be less jarring for his leg, he told them. Once settled Sam looked around for a street sign to figure out where they were and pulled out the map he ripped out of the phone book.

"Ok, it looks like the Impala is only two blocks from here. I'll go and get it. Should only take me ten minutes max to get there and back." Sam said as he crouched down next to his older brother. Dean's head was back and his eyes closed. Cautiously, he placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Hey, hang in there, ok?"

Cracking open an eye, he glanced up at his baby brother. "No problem. Just hurry back."

"Right." Sam twisted to look at Jenn and motioned for the bag she was still holding. He pulled something out and placed it into Dean's hand.

The older Winchester didn't have to open his eyes to know what it was. The familiar heft of cool metal nestled comfortably in his hand made him feel whole again for the first time in days. He muttered a very appreciative, "Thanks Sammy," then rested the weapon across his stomach.

Smiling as his brother finally relaxed, Sam glanced up at Jenn as he rose. "10 minutes." He said then ran off.

Not entirely sure what to do with herself, she slid into the corner near Dean, close but offering him some personal space as well. After a moment, she asked, "Wouldn't it be best to hide that?"

"No."

"But if someone approaches…"

"Doesn't matter. If they are happy little citizens, they'll just run along and leave us alone. And if they aren't happy, well, let's just say, I'd rather them see me as a danger than as a victim. I'm done playing that card."

The pair sat in silence for another long minute. Having always been a talker, Dean decided to continue the conversation. "So, you Sammy's _new_ girlfriend?"

"What? No, this is strictly a professional rela- Wait, how would you know if I was a _new_ girlfriend or not?"

Dean smirked, "His last one was blond and I thought her name was Jess not Jenn."

Curious now, Jenn asked, "How did you know that? According to my sources you two haven't spoken in years. You couldn't know about Jess."

"Sources, pah. Cross-checking phone records isn't always reliable, especially since there's more than one way to communicate. Besides, just because we haven't talked doesn't mean I don't check up on the kid now and then. It's my job."

"Big Brother, the protector."

There was something in her voice that made him open his tired eyes and look at her. She was grinning at him. "Yeah," he sighed.

After another pregnant pause, Jenn confided, "He was frantic, you know, when he found out about your apparent arrest. Refused to believe that you could have done it. That you were incapable of hurting an innocent woman. That you are a protector of people."

Dean shrugged uncomfortably at the praise. "Someone has to save these people from the monsters in the dark. We hunt these creatures down and in turn save people. All part and parcel to the gig."

"So you mean to tell me you go out there specifically to take these things out and the fact that you save innocent lives is just a happy byproduct from it?"

"You could say that."

"Then how would you say it?" He frowned at her, unsure of how to put what it is they do into words that didn't sound self-promoting. She decided to save him from that explanation. "So, tell me, what kind of reward do you get for your trouble?"

His gaze drifted off to a place somewhere beyond his toes. "Another life spared. Another family not torn apart by death and pain. Another bastard wiped out so it couldn't do it again." But it was the tone of his voice that really defined his words. It was obvious there was a deeper meaning behind them and she hoped to find out more one day.

"So, no money then." It was the absence of material rewards that intrigued her.

Dean shrugged. "Nah, a 'Thanks' if we're lucky."

"And from Sam's reluctance about revealing this bizarre underworld, it doesn't sound like you're looking for fame either."

"People don't want to know about the things that are out there that can harm them. Especially when they have no idea how to handle them. Oh, they may watch all the crap on the news, but the dark things that go bump in the night is a whole other ball game. It's easier to believe they're just fantasy."

"But they're not. And you and your family hunt them."

"Among others."

"So there's more of you out there then."

"Sure, a whole network."

"And they're all like you?"

"Nah, I'm way more good looking." He smirked.

"Cute, but that's not what I meant. Fame, glory, money, doesn't interest them."

Turning his head to regard the woman, he cautioned, "Now I didn't say that. I've heard of some Hunters getting paid or demanding payment."

"But you don't?"

"These things, they don't care about money either, most of the time. All they want is to destroy and cause pain. By the time we hear about a job, people have already died. It would be wrong to ask them for money after dealing with such a loss." Settling back in the corner, he closed his eyes again.

For a while they sat there quietly as she watched him. In the end, she said, "I can understand your brother's faith in you. You are a remarkable young man, Dean Winchester."

Taken aback by the comment, Dean's eyes popped open and regarded her before answering. "I'm nothing special."

Jenn smirked, "I beg to differ." But before more could be said the rumble of a big block engine came up the street.

Dean turned at the sound, his whole face brightened up. "My girl."

The Impala came to a stop in front of them and Sam jumped out. He smiled at his brother as he kneeled down and said, "Let's get you outta here."

It took some work, but soon they had Dean settled in the back seat, Jenn sat on the hub between the back seat and the front seat to keep Dean from sliding around and Sam reclaimed the Driver's spot. He looked over his shoulder at his exhausted brother and locked eyes. "It's ok, bro. I gotcha covered. Rest." Dean gave a tiny nod and then welcomed oblivion with open arms. This would be his first sleep in days that didn't end with more pain upon waking.

They were finally headed to the hotel.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you enjoyed this long chapter! And don't forget to drop a quick little note in my muse's valentine box. All you have to do is hit the review button. ;)

And for all those who have reviewed, faved and alerted this story, my little valentine to you;

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

You guys are AWESOME,

And Supernatural is too! ;)

A quick shout out to Alika – Yes, but I noticed in the first season people tended to believe Sam easily because of his honest face and innocence, I think. Thank you for the review and don't worry about the English. Thanks!

The question that remains; now that Dean is found how will they beat the Shapeshifter? Much more to come.

Thanks again for reading,

~Ari :D


	6. Reunited

The car ride back to the hotel was fairly quiet. Sam kept checking on his brother through the mirror. Jenn had placed one hand on Dean's hip to steady him when they hit a nasty pothole.

As they drew closer to their sanctuary, Sam started voicing the plan he had worked out about how to get Dean into the hotel and his room. "Alright, I'm going to drop you out front. I'm going to need you to cause a distraction while I try and sneak Dean inside. I may have to use the back entrance. Do you think you can keep them occupied?"

Laughing softly, she regarded her co-worker. "You know what the problem is with you intellectuals? You tend to over think the problem. How about we nix that plan? You can park right out front and I'll handle the rest."

"How?"

"Let me worry about that. Now have some faith." When his frown persisted, she added, "It's my job, remember. Arranging things. I've dealt with more bizarre situations than you can imagine. Now pull up to the front and wait for me."

"Fine, but it better not cause any problems."

"Trust me."

Sam left it at that as he pulled up in front of the hotel. There was basically one entrance - in the front. He parked under the overhang. The elevators were past the front desk and he had no idea how she was going to get them all past it. Sam just wanted to make this as easy on his brother as he could, so he decided to follow Jenn's lead, for now.

She scooted out of the back and made her way inside. From the car Sam watched as she walked straight up to the front desk and started talking. After about ten minutes, another worker came in to view pushing a wheel chair. Jenn guided him outside and stopped on the curb near the car. He could just hear her through the window.

"Thanks, Charles. We can take it from here."

"You're welcome, Miss Abernathy. Let us know if you need anything else." The young bellhop replied before disappearing back inside.

Jenn took a blanket and pillow off of the wheelchair and looked at Sam expectantly.

Taking the cue, he got out of the Impala and collected the wheelchair to position it close to the back door for an easier transition. Leaning over, he asked her, "So how did you do it?"

"Well, first off, a staff change helped, no one to recognize a new face to our room. Second, I told them about your brother's broken leg and how we went out site-seeing all day _and_ how he tuckered himself out doing it. I told them that despite the doctor's orders, he was determined to go on this trip like we planned and is now out cold from over exerting himself and it would be awesome if they happened to have a wheelchair we could borrow to get him to our room and in bed. Most good hotels are prepared for anything, including clients that get a little too drunk or get hurt while on vacation." She smiled at him.

Grinning, Sam shook his head. "I guess you do know what you're doing. It's just when we were kids, traveling around, we usually didn't stay in places like this. Mostly the kind where you don't want people in your business and they don't give a crap about your business as long as you paid up front and didn't cause too much trouble."

"So is that one of the trade-offs in this biz? Staying in two-bit dives and eating diner food all the time?"

"Something like that."

"You know, for the lack of recognition or money and crap accommodations, let alone moving around all the time, it's no wonder you wanted out. So, why didn't the rest of your family?"

"It's a long story, one that I would be happy to tell you later, once we got Dean upstairs. For now, just help me."

Jenn nodded and together they carefully pulled Dean out of the back seat of the Impala and onto the wheelchair. Jenn positioned the pillow under his leg to cushion it and keep it a little straighter. She also wrapped the blanket around him to cover up the fact he didn't have a cast, which would discredit her cover story.

When Dean was properly situated, Sam moved the car to the lot while Jenn slowly wheeled Dean inside, passed the front desk and toward the elevator. There, she waited for Sam. After a few minutes she pressed the button for the elevator and hoped Sam would arrive by the time the lift got there. Experience paid off as the arrival chime sounded just as her companion hurried around the corner with another bag over his shoulder.

Once inside the elevator, Sam asked, "Has he woken up yet?"

"No," she answered and firmly stated, "He needs a hospital."

"We already went over this." Sam had already grown tired of this conversation. It wasn't happening so it wasn't up for further debate.

Unfortunately, Jenn didn't know that. "Yes, but the fact remains he needs some serious medical attention. His knee is just the most obvious problem, who knows what else has been done to him. And he may be acting normal now, but there could also be some hidden psychological trauma as well. He's going to need more help than we can offer."

"Don't you think I don't know that?" Sam snapped back in a harsh whisper. The sharpness of his tone demanded her silence on the subject, which she obliged. So the rest of the ride up was quiet, which suited Sam just fine. It gave him a moment to think.

He wasn't sure what he was more angry at; the fact Jenn was probably right, the fact that Dean was too stubborn sometimes to know what's good for him, the frustration of knowing that their dad nor Sam was there to back Dean up, or the bastard shapeshifter that caused this mess to begin with.

But probably what bothered him the most right now was the conversation he had with Shifter-Dean. The creature alluded to so much and still managed to say nothing at all. What comments were meant specifically to bother him and how much truth did they actually hold? But with the physical state Dean was in, could he afford to ignore anything the creature said? But the hardest question of all, would Dean even let him help with any of it?

He doubted it. Dean was a stubborn man, especially when it came to himself. And when it came to getting past Dean's defenses, it was about as difficult getting around as the Great Wall of China. He would just have to take things slow and hope he could get Dean to open up like when they were kids.

The ding of the elevator pulled him back out of his thoughts. Jenn pushed Dean down the hall to Sam's room and waited for him to open the door. She followed him inside and was thankful once again that she had gone with double beds instead of kings in their rooms. She asked gently, "Would you like any help?"

"No, I'll take care of him from here."

"Alright, I'll order the room service once I am done cleaning up. I'll check on you two after that." She didn't wait for his response, not that he was going to offer one.

As soon as the door shut, Sam flopped down on his bed staring at his brother. Now that they were alone and in bright light, he could really see the older man more clearly. Dean looked thinner than he remembered. And in this unguarded state, even with the dirt and grime on his skin, Dean looked incredibly young.

Sighing, Sam grabbed a change of clothes and took a super quick five minute shower. When he got out, Dean was still sleeping in the wheelchair. It was time to take care of his brother. Grabbing another set of clothes from his bag, Sam wheeled the chair over to the bathroom. He crouched down in front of the chair and removed the blanket then he patted Dean's good leg. "Hey man, time to wake up."

It took another couple of minutes of Sam's urging to finally pull Dean from oblivion. After slowly stirring, Dean suddenly jerked awake, flinging his hands up in a defensive motion automatically. For a moment he thought he was back in that damn sewer with the creature, until Sam's soothing voice cut through the nightmare and brought him back to the real world. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, it's me. Time to get you washed up, but I'm gonna need your help."

"Whatever, let's just get this over with." Lifting up his hands, he silently accepted Sam's help getting out of the chair and balanced again. Together they moved into the bathroom and managed to seat him on the closed toilet. "I can take it from here, Sam."

Frowning, Sam shook his head. "Dean, you are not going to be able to get in that tub without help."

"I'll be fine." The pair locked glares, iron will against iron will.

Finally, Sam decided, "You're not winning this time, Dean. I need to check you over anyway and I can do that just as easily in here as anywhere else. I just need to make sure that you're ok."

"Sam, I've had to deal with my own scrapes and bumps for a while, all by myself. And I can handle this, by myself." To prove his point, Dean started to take off the shirt, which he found was much easier to remove than put on. At the hiss that echoed through the small tiled room he paused to look up at his brother.

In the sharp light of the bathroom, Dean looked even worse than he had in the sewer. This is what his older brother referred to as _scrapes and bumps_? "God Dean, what did that bastard do to you?"

Sighing, the older brother answered, "Nothing that hasn't been done before, Sammy."

"Don't joke about stuff like this!"

"I'm not!"

"This has never happened before, I would remember."

"How would you remember? You haven't been around for 4 years, Sammy! You have no idea what's happened since you left."

Sam took a step back from the verbal slap. The hurt reflected in his eyes immediately dissipated the fire in the hazel depths across from him.

Dean deflated in the wake of his anger. It was pain and frustration talking, making him say things he never meant to say. Shoulders hunched, he leaned forward, elbows on thighs and the heels of his hands digging into his tired eyes.

"Dean, I-"

"No, Sam." Dean stopped his baby brother's regret ridden words with his calm, resigned voice. "I'm the one that should be saying sorry. It's ok. I'm glad – proud, actually - that you went to college. You had the chance to live your own life, and I'm sorry you had to get sucked back into mine with this mess."

Eyes older than the body that housed them stared up at Sam, pleading to accept the apology. It almost made Sam sick. His bloody and beaten brother was sorry that his apple pie life was interrupted. And worse, during his time away, Dean said that he'd been through something like this before. His heart sank. He wanted to cry. "Dean," his voice cracked with emotion.

"Hey, it's ok, Sammy. Really."

"No, Dean, this is not ok." Slowly, Sam fell to his knees in front of his brother. "_None_ of this is _ok._ I should have been here. I should have been backing you up, but I wasn't."

"Yeah, it's called college, bitch. You know - girls, booze, and parties." Dean teased. "Well at least that's what it should be like, but not my geek brother. His idea of a good time is a 24 hour library." Dean smirked and was rewarded with a grin in return; accomplishing his goal to distract his brother from pressing the issue further.

"Hey, I may not be a party animal, but I know how to have a good time." Sam defended himself.

"Poetry readings and book signings are not good times."

"Have you ever tried one?"

"Hell no!" Dean sat back appalled at the idea. Then the wheels started turning as he thought the idea over again. "Well, it would depend on how many hot girls showed up."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

The levity the banter offered helped to ease the tension of their earlier comments. Their small grins soon faded. Sam placed a hand on Dean's good knee and squeezed. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Mind if I have a moment first to do some business?"

"Sure, I'll just get the water started first and then call me when you're ready." Sam turned on the water, making sure it was warm before he left. Closing the door behind him, he collected the clothes he had gotten out and held them in his lap as he sat waiting for his brother to call.

On the other side of the door, Dean fell back against the toilet and closed his eyes. Everything just seemed so surreal and messed up. His baby brother had suddenly appeared after four long years. Dean had always hoped that Sam would contact him again. And he imagined the conversation going so much better than this. Now, he was just screwing everything up.

All Sam wanted to do was help him, take care of him, make sure he was ok. And what had Dean done? Snapped at him, threw his chance at normal back in his face. What kind of brother was he?

_A pathetic one_, Dean decided. _A weak, miserable, incompetent one._ He had failed his father, he had failed his brother, and he had failed himself; again. He allowed a fricking shapeshifter to get the better of him. He didn't really deserve the rescue, even if he was glad to see Sammy again.

Well, what's done is done and he now has the opportunity to fix this mess. And Dean wasn't about to screw up a second time on this hunt. Rebuilding his conviction, Dean sucked up the pain and the frustration and used it as fuel for the fire. He maneuvered himself on to the edge of the tub and managed to slowly work his pants off.

By the time he was done doing his business – with great relief – the tub was practically full. He reached over and turned the water off. Then he got back on the edge of the tub and carefully lowered himself into the soothing bath. He couldn't stop the grunt from escaping as his leg straightened and then slid into the steaming water. White-hot agony flared for a moment but quickly passed. He could only hope that was a good sign.

From the other side of the door he could hear Sammy calling him. "'s ok." He grunted out, but knew it couldn't have sounded that convincing.

Sam answered, "I'm coming in," as the door opened. Taking in his brother's stiff form and pained face, Sam sighed. "I told you to wait for me to get in the water."

"And I told you I could do it, so I did." Dean replied tersely.

"Obviously." Wordlessly, Sam moved closer to the tub, knelt down and started helping Dean scrub up. As he worked he cataloged every cut, bruise and mark on the abused skin. Some scars he recognized. Others he didn't, which fed into Dean's claim of stuff happening in the past four years that Sam had no idea about. There was nothing Sam could do about those old wounds, only the current ones. So he figured out what might need stitches and which ones could be infected and planned his actions accordingly.

Sam didn't speak because his brain was in overdrive, where Dean didn't speak because he felt like a damned fool. While the situation was no stranger to the siblings, it was usually the other way around with the older tending to the younger. So for Dean's ego, this was a significant blow. Not comfortable with the role reversal, he opted for silence over making a bigger fool of himself by opening his mouth and drawing attention to it.

At last, Sam broke the silence, "You're a mess, Dean."

"Tell me something I don't know."

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance. At the sound of a door opening, just beyond the bathroom, the pair tensed reflexively. "Hey, you guys alright?" At Jenn's soft call, they relaxed again.

"Yeah, we're just about done in here. Just give us a minute." Sam answered.

"Good, take your time, I'll get things set in here." They heard her talk softly to someone in the hall. "Ok, just put it down on the table over there. And thank you for doing this. We really appreciate it." There was movement as something was brought in and a male voice whispered back to her asking if she needed anything else. She said no, and they heard the door close.

Sam looked at Dean, "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Dean shot back. Sam grabbed for a towel and Dean popped the drain.

Throwing the towel over his shoulder, Sam prepared to lift Dean up. "Alright, on the count of three, ok?" Dean nodded. "One, two, three." Sam pulled while Dean struggled to get his good leg under him and not slip out due to the slippery surface. For once, God seemed to be on their side and it went smoothly, with little jarring of his knee.

Still, the sudden elevation made him dizzy while he clung to Sam for support. Fortunately, it quickly passed. "I'm good, Sam." Dean said in a tight voice. "Just get me out of here so I can get dried up and dressed."

Sam carefully lifted and swung Dean's bad leg over the edge of the tub and then supported him when Dean stepped over with his other leg. Dean managed to wrap the towel around his waist and balance himself against the sink.

"There's some clothes here for you. They should all be pretty loose on you."

"Thanks, Sammy. Now get out so I can change."

"Dean," Sam began but wasn't allowed to finish.

"Sam, I'm not a baby. I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself. I already let you help with the bath, but I can do this on my own. And I'm not going anywhere, so you don't have to keep watch like a mother hen. Just give me a minute, ok?" The older Winchester pleaded with his younger sibling.

Damn his brother for knowing him too well. With the chaos over the past, what? 12 to 15 hours? His brother was accused of attempted murder, only to discover a shapeshifter had been to blame designating this an official hunt and the harrowing search for his brother, transported Sam back in time. A time when the two worked jobs in tandem. And with Dean's penchant for jumping in harm's way, had left Sam to patch the older man up on a number of occasions. Some worse than others. And it was those memories that made Sam hover over his brother, worry and concern driving every action he took. So yes, he was being a mother hen right now, but he felt he was entitled to it, all things considered.

But he also believed that Dean was the strongest person he knew. And the older man hated being coddled. So the fact that Dean let him take it this far was both impressive and worrisome. However, he could not deny the color slowly returning to his brother's face since his rescue. Nor the fact that Dean seemed to be regaining his strength despite the pain he obviously still felt.

So if the older man wanted to be an obstinate fool and deny help now, Sam would have to oblige him on this occasion. He sighed, "Fine, but if you're not out in five, I'm coming back in."

"Whatever, Florence."

"And when you're done, I would like to see about doing some stitches and getting some antiseptic on those cuts. I want to stop what infections may be starting up."

"If it will make you feel better."

"I'm doing it for you."

"I know, Sam, I know." Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

Sam smirked and then stepped out to leave Dean to it. He glanced around and found Jenn looking through the medical kit he brought up in the bag he grabbed from the Impala. Without looking at him she spoke, "So, by the looks of all the provisions in this first aid kit, I imagine _home care_ happens quite often."

Sam shrugged. "No insurance and no questions asked."

"So I guess triage training is just another one of those perks with this lifestyle?"

"You could say that."

"As I said before, the more I learn about this _job_, the more I understand why you wanted to leave. But I am also finding a deeper respect for you, your brother, your family and all the other, um, _hunters_ that are out there. This isn't an easy lifestyle, from what you and your brother have said, and yet he still does it. They all still go out there and fight. It's truly amazing." The awe and admiration evident in her voice.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Sam agreed. The sound of the bathroom door opening had Sam spinning on his heels. In an instant, he was there staring at the shorter man hunched against the door frame. "Here let me help you with the wheelchair."

Dean's scowl did not go unnoticed, but ignored none-the-less. After getting settled in the wheelchair, Dean looked up at their guest. "So how did you get in?"

"Easy, I arranged the rooms, not too difficult to get an extra key when I need it." Dean nodded approvingly. "Now, would you like to finish patching things up first or eat?"

"Eat."/"Patch up." The two said at the same time.

Sam frowned, "Dean, we need to take care of those cuts at least."

"And I haven't eaten since, wait is today Monday?"

"Tuesday," Jenn supplied.

"Son of a bitch," he mumbled as he realized how long he had been in the sewer. "I haven't eaten in over 3 days, I think the cuts can wait dude. Besides, they've stopped bleeding so there's no need to rush. And it's not like I can move very well right now, so no threat of any reopening while I stuff my face. " Dean pretty much shot down every comeback Sam had on the tip of his tongue.

But Sam wasn't about to be deterred. "Both," he decided firmly. "You eat while I work. And maybe you can explain just what the hell is going on here."

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, another week and another chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it.

Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews for last chapter! It was awesome, I got 14 reviews in all for my valentine post! Couldn't ask for more. ;) Although, I know my muse would love more. – nudge, nudge –

A shout out to Shawna – Thanks for sticking with me and don't worry there's still a lot more to come.

An interesting day in sports, while the Penguins didn't win, we had a rookie take the Daytona 500. It was great to watch considering it was the first time in 5 years since we've watched a race. We still miss you Dale!

Sorry, random. Must be getting tired finally.

Anyway, thank you all for reading and reviewing, alerting, and faving!

Much love to you all!

~Ari :D


	7. Questions

Silence reigned. The older Winchester brother chose to not respond while they transferred him from the wheelchair and on to one of the beds. It would be more comfortable for Dean while open enough for Sam to work in.

Sam had provided some loose gym shorts and a button down flannel shirt for Dean to wear. It wasn't the most fashionable ensemble but given his current condition was probably the most conducive. The shorts were easy to slip over his swollen knee and the button shirt saved his shoulder from undue stress. Oft times, they didn't worry about their attire. After all, coming back from a hunt gone right can often be messy. And on those hunts that went terribly wrong, clothes were simply burned or tossed rather than going through the hassle of trying to save them.

In their line of work, clothes weren't about looking cool. They were functional, worn with a purpose. Layered yet flexible they served as a protective shield. Pieces of material that can be easily removed when the need arose, for bandages or a pillow, the uses were only limited to your own imagination.

Dean's were all gone, removed by the shapeshifter. It was a symbol of power and dominance. And a symbol of vulnerability. And more importantly a time Dean would do anything to forget. Only he would never forget the time he spent in that sewer. But there was no need to burden the others with that knowledge either.

So Dean did what he does best; diverting the attention away from himself. "Are we expecting someone?" He had noticed that the table was set with 4 covered dishes.

Smirking, Jenn answered, "No." She picked up one of the trays and put it on the night stand next to the bed and pulled off the cover. "Even without knowing the exact amount of time since your last meal, I gathered it had been at least 24 hours. I want you to finish this first before you get anything else."

Dean wrinkled his nose at the small cup of fruit and bowl of soup on the tray. "I thought you said you would try and compromise."

"And I am. If you are a good boy and finish your first course, you can have what's under tray number two."

"And that is a big double cheeseburger with extra onions and a heaping mound of chili-cheese fries, right?"

"Sadly, no." At his frown, she smiled again. "But it is a nice sirloin steak with broccoli and, against my better judgment, some French fries."

The previous frown slowly grew into a grin. "Ah, you have redeemed yourself."

"Glad I could make your approval, Jake. Your toast is on the table Elwood, when you've finished taking care of your brother." Jenn teased as she walked over to the contents of the first aid kit that Sam had spilled out on the other bed and grabbed the one thing she felt she could handle. She noticed Dean roll his eyes while Sam stared at her blankly. "Oh, come on, Blues Brothers. In the beginning, the Penguin says, 'Don't come back until you've redeemed yourselves.' Just the way he said it reminded me of it." She did her best to mimic the Sister in the movie as she said the line.

Sam shrugged and picked up a couple of rolls of gauze and antiseptic spray and ointment.

Dean laughed. "You'll have to excuse Sammy, he loves his books and stuff, but pop culture was not his forte." Then with a cheeky grin on his face, he added, "If you said that you had four fried chickens and a coke waiting for me under tray number 2, I wouldn't have minded that either."

Jenn had opened up the ice bucket on the table and filled the ice pack she grabbed from the kit. "Nice. Thanks anyway, but once you have to explain the quote, the reference is lost. Here, to help with your knee." She handed him the ice pack, which he nodded his thanks and carefully placed it on his swollen leg.

Sam sat down on the other side of his brother and laid out his supplies. "Do you think you could sit up while I take care of the cuts?"

The previously teasing expression on Dean's face fell into a scowl. "I'm fine, Sammy." He said automatically and was consequentially ignored with a huff. Sam helped Dean work off his shirt so he could get started.

For a few minutes, they all sat in silence. Sam concentrated on his task while Dean picked at his appetizers and Jenn tried to blend into the background as she ate her meal at the table. Meticulously and methodically, Sam moved from one issue to the next. He started with the small cuts and worked his way up to wrapping Dean's ribs and shoulder. At last, Sam sat back having taken care of most of injuries and sighed, "Don't you get tired of playing the punching bag all the time?"

Dean shrugged, grimacing as he rotated his shoulder checking his brother's work. "It's not my favourite hobby, no. But you got to do what you got to do."

"What happened, Dean?"

Leave it to Sammy to not let anything go. Sighing, he started, "You know how it goes. This is a rough gig. I went in not fully knowing what I was up against and I got caught with my pants down. Simple as that." Dean winced at his own words then quickly worked to hide it as a grimace to Sam's continuous fidgeting with the bandages.

"Dean, you know better than to walk into a situation without knowing or without back up." Sam tried to search Dean's gaze for an answer, but his brother continued to elude him by focusing intently on the soup he was spooning. He knew this tactic. If the vague answer to a question didn't suffice, Dean just stopped answering all together. If he hoped to get anything out of his brother, he was going to have to change tactics. It was dirty and he wasn't proud of himself, but Sam pulled out the only other card besides himself that could get Dean to open up. "Dad taught us better than that. So why wasn't he there?"

Dean finished his soup and put the bowl down a little harder than he intended. He ground out defensively, "I don't need a baby sitter. I can handle it on my own."

"Yeah, I see how well that turned out." Sam felt the tension in his brother's shoulders knot up right under his hands and regretted the words immediately. He knew better than to direct attention to Dean's reaction and went with diversion instead. "And you still haven't answered my question. Where's Dad?"

"Hunting, what else?"

"But he's not here with you. So where is he?"

"Look, you know evil doesn't take a holiday. We had two jobs come in and we couldn't pass them up, so he took one and I took the other."

"So you're hunting alone now?" Sam was starting to get frustrated with his brother. His brother was a Master at deflecting questions. Sam had witnessed it on hundreds of occasions and so he knew that the middle Winchester was dodging the question and he still had no idea why.

"Dude, I'm 26, I think I can take care of myself."

"You already said that!" At the confused look on his brother's face, Sam ran a hand through his hair. "That's what Shifter-Dean said in the jail. He also said Dad _left you_, is that true? Is that why he's not here? Where is he?"

"I don't know!" Dean finally snapped. "Happy now? I can't tell you where he is, because I don't know, dammit. We split up and when I finished in New Orleans I called to check in, he didn't answer. After a while I went to California to check up on him, but he was gone. All his research was still there along with his journal. I haven't heard from him since, I've been looking, followed some coordinates he left but the trail went cold."

This flood of new information only further vexed the younger man. "New Orleans? California? But the shifter said you were in Illinois."

"I was." Dean shot back.

For a moment, Sam started calculating what his brother was telling him. But if what he determined were true than this issue was far bigger than he first realized. The only way to confirm his suspicions was to ask. "Well, then how long has Dad been missing?"

Dean shrugged with his good shoulder this time, muttering, "Couple months."

Sam jumped up off the bed and ran both hands through his hair as he paced the small room. "Christ, Dean, a couple months? And when were you planning on telling me about this? When you found his body!"

Anger-filled - fear induced - adrenaline fueled Dean's battered and weary body as he too sprang off the bed, ignoring the sharp spike of pain in his leg. "He's not dead! And of course I wanted to tell you. Even stopped at Stanford when I went to California. Parked outside your apartment and everything." He started to explain but didn't know how to continue. Leaning against the bed for support, Dean shifted his weight to ease the protests of his knee.

However, this new nugget of information did not sit well with the youngest Winchester, crossing his arms he demanded, "So what stopped you from coming inside?" Sam watched as Dean glanced down at his feet and then off to the side wiping at his face. He recognized the tell. Dean didn't want to answer the question which meant a) Sam wasn't going to get the full answer, or b) that he wouldn't like what Dean would say.

"Come on, Sammy, does it even matter?" Dean attempted to scoot around the question.

"If you were parked right outside my apartment and didn't bother to come tell me, then you had to have a reason. So what is it?" Sam continued to press his brother.

"There wasn't any, OK?" Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean tried to push back the pressure that was forming behind his eyes.

"Liar! If you came to Stanford, you were going to tell me, but you didn't, so I want to know why?"

"Why can't you just drop it, Sammy?"

"Why can't you just tell me, Dean?"

"Cause it's over and done with. And you know now don'tcha. So what difference does it make?"

"Is it because of something that happened between you two?" It was the only reason Sam could come up with. That there was some sort of fall out, something that finally drove the stalwart, stubborn older Winchesters apart. It was torture not knowing, not having been there to condemn or support. He had left willingly, but he was told never to come back. The bitterness of that final battle bubbled to the surface. "What did he do this time? Dad ordered you not to tell me, didn't he?"

The muscle along Dean's jaw twitched as he glared at his baby brother. "The man's missing and you're trying to pick a fight? You're unbelievable."

"I'm not. I'm just trying to understand why you won't give me a straight answer."

"You want a straight answer, then fine. I didn't tell you because of exactly what just happened. If I had gone in there and told you, you wouldn't have cared. You haven't cared about us in four years. And even if I managed to convince you to help me find him, as soon as we did, I knew the fighting would start all over again. And I'd get… well, I didn't want to have to deal with that."

"That's not true. I would have helped and I wouldn't fight."

"Wouldn't you? Ever since you were old enough to figure out what he did, all you've done was question, argue and fight against the man. You never wanted our life. You wanted normal, and that's what you had at Stanford. It's what made you walk out on us. If I had gone in, I would have brought this life back into your apple-pie world. You would have rebelled. You would have kicked me out to the curb without a second thought and hope that my appearance wouldn't screw up everything you had going for you. You would have rejected me and I would have been stuck on my own anyway. So I saved us both the aggravation and left you to your happy little college life." Dean's rant pushed the adrenaline through his system faster as well as the pressure in his head.

It was Sam's turn to falter. "Dean, that's not true. I wouldn't turn you away." His voice and mind protested, but deep down he wondered if it were possible. Could he have shut Dean out?

"You can say that now, but we both know better. Tell me something Sammy, why are you here? What brought you to St. Louis, because I doubt it was the hunt."

Sam knew the answer to this, whole heartedly. Straightening to his full height he said, "You're right, it wasn't the hunt. It was _you, _Dean, I came for you."

Scoffing, Dean denied, "Yeah, right. You didn't come for me, you came because of how my screw up would effect you. What happened? Someone run a background check and found my record. A black splotch in your perfect little world. Couldn't have that, could you? I mean, it wouldn't look good for a law student to have a criminal brother, right? Had to fix it quick so you could get back to your normal life."

"Dammit, Dean. Why is it so hard for you to understand that I came out here for _you_? When they said that you were caught trying to murder Becky, I _knew_ that wasn't you. You couldn't have done those things."

The bruised and battered countenance wasn't ready for an assault of honesty. Stormy, hazel eyes dropped to the floor as a defeated voice responded, "You don't know that Sam. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of and I've killed plenty of bastards in my life, how could you know I didn't do the things they said."

"Because I knew Becky and Zack from school and I was trying to help her out with what little legal knowledge I had. And when she told me about your visit I knew she couldn't be in better hands." Sam pleaded with his idol, begging him to understand.

Dean snorted. "Oh yeah, and as you said before, that turned out so well. A shifter took on my face and tried to kill her, and then he had the audacity to get caught on top of it. I was so in control." The sarcasm dripped vehemently in his voice, laced with an unhealthy dose of self-loathing. "I made a rookie mistake and got myself caught. Allowed a monster to take my face and hurt even more innocent people. I deserved what I got!" He rubbed his hands over his face. The mother of all headaches apparently decided that his head would make a perfect little nest for her brood.

Shocked was an understatement for what Sam felt in that moment. _Oh my God, is that really what he believes? _He thought. C_ould Dean really think so little of himself, so little of his capabilities, that he deserved what that bastard did to him?_ Once again, Sam wanted to blame their Dad for Dean's lack of self-worth. So many times, their Dad downplayed Dean's accomplishments offering little praise and a ton of reprimands and discipline. And in the midst of his irrational desire to find and yell at their dad, Sam was hit with the dreadful realization that the shifter was right.

Dean was already broken in some ways and it was their fault. Because deep down, Sam knew his father wasn't the only one at blame here. John may have been the reason Dean never thought he was good enough, but Dean was also afraid Sam would reject him, and he couldn't blame their father for that. Suddenly, Sam felt exhausted. All the emotions and turmoil of the day caught up to him. And standing there looking into the expressive green eyes of his hero, knowing without a doubt that Dean truly believed he deserved all the pain and hurt that constantly found him just broke Sam's heart. He had to fix this. He just prayed it wasn't too late.

All the fight drained out of him, replaced by a deep sense of regret. "No, Dean. You didn't deserve it. You never deserved any of it. When we were kids, you were the one I counted on. You took care of me, protected me, hell you even took care of dad after a hunt gone south. And you did that all on your own. I'm sorry. I am so sorry that you had to carry that burden by yourself. But I'm here now. You don't have to do it alone anymore."

"Sammy?" Confused eyes stared at him, unsure at this sudden turn of events. And then everything went wrong. The headache that started building at the onset of their argument exploded. Dean's face screwed up tight as his hands flew up clutching his head. And then he collapsed.

"Dean!"

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, I hope this chapter wasn't too bad. I have a feeling it may be a little OOC, but I am hoping the fact that they are tired, hungry and hurting both physically and emotionally helps explain a few things. Also, I wish to apologize for any typos, grammar issues or any other errors. This fic is still entirely un-betaed and I am revising this chapter while fending off sleep.

Quick shout out to _Anonymous_ – I hope you still think so by the end of this fic. Either way, thank you so much for the wonderful comment. It really did mean a lot to me. And also _Shawna_ – Thanks. I imagine it must be hard stepping into the Winchester world. Normal rules never apply. All I can say is that Dean is stubborn. Let's just hope it doesn't get him killed one day. ;) No problem, thanks for reviewing! :D

Well, I think that's it for now. Please review, alert or fave if you can. Both my muse and I thank you! Hugs to those who have already! It's so nice being back, writing fanfic and sharing it with all of you. Until next week.

Stat-whore extraordinaire,

~Ari :D


	8. Found and Lost

The dull throb in his leg had steadily grown into a pulsating pillar of torment during their argument, but it was not that pain that brought Dean crashing down. Everything had been so heated, so angry, that when Sam suddenly apologized, Dean was taken aback and thoroughly confused. His emotions were exploding and imploding all at once. At the same time he tried to quell the emotional turmoil a new sensation assaulted him.

A white hot poker of blinding agony stabbed his mind so fiercely that he didn't realize he was falling until strong arms caught him. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard his name but he couldn't be sure. Everything was lost to the milky inferno raging through his head. Every nerve, every cell in his body screaming all at once. It would be minutes before the pain and white noise would recede enough for him to start making out what was happening.

Sam's heart leapt up into his throat as he watched his brother buckle. Automatically, his body moved quickly to catch the older man as he cried out. The pain etched on his brother's face nearly destroyed him. With as much care as possible, Sam managed to maneuver his brother back on to the bed, muttering, "Damn stubborn sonofabitch. What made you think standing was a good idea?"

Sam's worry continued to grow as all the color drained from Dean's face. "Hey, hey man, come on Dean, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. I can't help if you don't talk to me."

Dean swallowed convulsively, obviously working hard to keep what little he had eaten inside. It took another minute of Sam's urging before Dean started showing signs of the pain ebbing. Dean's hand struck out and gripped Sam's shirt. In a gasping whisper, he said, "He knows."

"What?"

"He knows, Sammy. He knows."

"Knows what?"

"Us. Together. He knows." Dean attempted to look at his brother, but quickly decided against it. The lights did nothing good for his head.

"Who, Dean? Wha-?"

"Shifter, the shifter."

"You're not making any sense. What does the Shifter know?"

"Found me. Together." Desperate green eyes cracked open again and pleaded with his little brother to understand.

Sam was struggling to piece together the fragments of information Dean managed to get out. He realized quickly that the reason Dean had collapsed was not because of his leg but something much darker. He could see it by how much pain Dean was in, he just had no idea what caused it. And then suddenly it hit him.

"Dean, are you saying that the Shapeshifter knows that I found you?" The hint of relief that bleed into the tormented hazel gaze staring up at him was enough of an answer for Sam, but it opened up a ton more questions. "But how could he know? How do _you_ know?"

Dean closed his eyes and relaxed back into the mattress, sighing. "I jus'do."

"Sam?" A timid voice said from the corner. Jenn had felt like such an intruder, getting a glimpse into a world she was never meant to see. Unable to escape she could not help but listen in as the two talked. And when Dean collapsed, she had jumped up wanting to help but feeling totally inept and out of place. But now with this new information combined with what they previously determined, she thought that maybe she could contribute. When Sam's confused and deeply concerned gaze fell on her, she continued. "You said before that the Shapeshifter had all of Dean's memories, right? Well, what if he's able to access them even now because he is still pretending to be your brother?"

Sam thought about it for a second before glancing down at his brother. He noticed Dean watching Jenn thoughtfully, but he had more important concerns. "Is that what happened, Dean? Was that creature able to somehow steal your memories? Is that how he knows?"

Dean's attention returned to his little brother, locking gazes for a moment before nodding. His whole body ached and the poker in his brain worked its way down to a splitting migraine. And he was finding it easier to breathe now.

Sam sat back thinking. "And I'm sure by what just happened, you can feel it."

At that, Dean huffed, "Understatement." Taking another deep breath to calm his frayed nerves, Dean explained, "He said most times, he tries to download the memories at night, while the person's sleeping. That way they only wake up with a headache without really knowing why." A tiny sardonic smirk curved the edges of Dean's mouth. "But the bastard loves inflicting pain whenever it can. He… It was like he was ra- .. r-ripping the memories right out of my mind."

Sam's brow creased with concern. The more he found out about the shifter the more he wished he had killed him in that interrogation room, damn the consequences. This creature tortured his brother on so many levels, Sam couldn't even begin to fathom what his brother went through. He could only try and pick up the pieces as best he could now. He muttered a weak, "I'm sorry, man."

"Nothing ta be sorry bout, Sammy." Dean did his best to soothe his distraught baby brother. But the past few days and the recent episode drained what little energy he had gained. He was fighting the weight of his eye lids and knew he was losing. Lightly, he patted Sam's hand that still clung to his shoulders. "I think I'm gonna turn in now, k?"

Doing his best to smile reassuringly, Sam answered, "Sure, bro. Get some rest and I'll see you in the morning." Dean nodded and then turned away from them, quickly succumbing to the exhaustion that claimed him. Sam sat there for another few minutes until Dean's breathing evened out before getting up and sitting at the small table where his cold dinner waited.

Jenn watched him for a while, unsure of what to do. In the end she finally uttered, "I'm so sorry, Sam. I shouldn't be here."

He didn't bother looking at her. "You wanted full disclosure. Looks like you got it."

"This isn't what I wanted." She glanced at the huddled form on the bed, tears threatening to fall. "This isn't like anything I've ever dealt with before. I am so out of my element and I am intruding into your lives. He's been through so much, prisoner to something I am still trying to believe in let alone understand. I thought I could handle anything, but not this. This is too much, too close. I should never have come."

Shrugging, Sam stated bluntly, "It's too late now. And I get it, there's no way you could have anticipated all this. Hell, I didn't and I knew what kind of world I was walking into. You said before, that you thought Hunters, like my dad and Dean, were Heroes. I agree, they are, but what most people don't realize is that being a Hero comes with a High Price. It's a life I wouldn't wish on anyone. It's hard and lonely and painful."

Her voice wavered and a tear broke free. "All those scars, all that pain, and he keeps going."

Sam laughed sadly. "Yeah, only it's worse. Dean runs headlong into it. As long as he thinks he is saving someone from something, he'll throw himself into the line of fire to protect them. He's done it his whole life. I don't even know how he got his first scar, I was too young to remember. All I do know is that he got it protecting me. He's a shield. And shields were meant to be beaten and bashed, and he accepted the role willingly.

"I love my brother. It kills me every time he gets so much as a nick for me, hell for anyone. He would just brush the injuries off as if nothing happened. And I couldn't sit by and watch him take it anymore. I wanted a normal life for both of us. So I figured if I stepped out of the equation, perhaps Dean wouldn't get hurt as much, maybe even stop hunting himself. Move on, ya know? But my leaving didn't stop him. He could just focus more on the hunt. I kept in touch for a while but when I tried calling him for a few days with no answer, I found out from a family friend that Dean had been in the hospital because of a hunt gone south.

"I almost left Stanford then, but I was told Dean was already out and was back to work. I knew then. Dean was never going to stop. So I decided that if I couldn't stop him, if he wanted to keep doing it, that I was going to cut them off completely. I couldn't sit around waiting for the next hospital stay or the call saying one of them didn't make it. If I ignored the calls then I would be able to pretend everything was ok."

"You do realize Denial doesn't prevent it from happening, and it is not a very healthy way of dealing with things, don't you?" She commented softly, not really a reprimand, just a fact to be shared.

Sam grinned, "Yeah, I do, but it was easier to pretend I was just another normal guy in college like everyone else."

They sat quietly for a moment, each lost in thought. Neither willing to move just yet.

After some consideration, Jenn turned to look at her co-worker. "Can I tell you something, Sam?" She waited for a moment for him to turn and their eyes met. "In my opinion, _no one_ is normal. Lives may be mundane, boring even, but every story, every path is unique. It's one of the reasons I love living in a college town. All those wonderful histories and walks that lead them to that place are fascinating. I embrace them all. There is so much to learn and see. While not all lives may be ideal childhoods, we all bring something wonderful to the table.

"I can't speak for you or your brother. But even with all the setbacks and suffering your family has sustained, you both have turned into people to be proud of. Your grades, for instance, must have been hard to maintain with all that moving and you still managed to get a scholarship and admittance to Stanford. That's no easy task. As for your brother, well, I don't know much, but I agree with what you said on the way here, he is a protector, and I do want him in my corner. I wish I had a brother like that. You two are lucky to have each other." She placed a hand over his.

"Thanks."

After another moment, she squeezed his hand and then stood. "Well, it's been a really long day. I'm hoping that the 'drink me' bottle waiting in my room will be enough to whisk me out of Wonderland and back to reality by morning." She grinned thoughtfully and sighed. "But I have a feeling that this is the world I'm going to be stuck with from now on. Guess it could be worse, right?" Jenn didn't wait for Sam to answer. "Anyway, I have a fridge and micro in my room. I'll hold on to Dean's dinner, just call me when he's ready to eat, even if it's 2 in the morning and I'll fix it up and bring it over." She collected the last plate and headed for the door.

Sam responded automatically, "Alright, I will. Night." He didn't follow, just sat in the chair.

"Good night." And she left.

Sam was alone with his thoughts. Glancing at his own plate, he tried to eat. He managed only a few bites before finally giving up. With such chaos in his mind, he could not bother with eating at the moment. Instead, he moved his chair over to sit beside Dean. His brother's back was still to him, but Sam could see the light rise and fall of his chest. That alone was comfort enough that his brother was alive. He just hoped somehow they could figure out this mess and get back to Stanford, all of them.

Eventually, exhaustion would win out and Sam fell asleep in the chair.

- S – P – N –

Knocking. A muffled voice. These two elements were slowly whittling away at the dark expanse of slumber, attempting to draw him out. At first he wanted to ignore them. But something about their continued almost frantic presence piqued his curiosity and soon he found himself hurrying toward consciousness.

When full awareness hit, his mind recognized the pounding on the door along with the voice calling from the other side. It took another moment for his mind to make sense of what was being said on the other side of the door. And when he did, suddenly everything started moving in fast forward.

"Sam? Are you guys alright? Please answer me! You have 30 seconds to answer before I come in. Please!"

Sam glanced over to the clock on the nightstand between the beds and noticed it was just after 9 am. While this may not be considered by most to be late, it was for the Winchesters. He glanced quickly at the figure on the bed and frowned. Dean was still out for the count. The continued pounding on the door got his body up and moving despite the protest of his aching muscles. Sleeping in a chair was never comfortable and even worse upon waking.

He made it to the door, yanking it open, just as Jenn issued her final warning, "Five seconds left before I open this door." The shocked expression on her face and the key hovering right where the lock would have been was almost comical if not for the worry underlining her features. "Oh."

Grabbing the arm poised with the key, Sam pulled her into the room and shut the door.

"What is it Jenn?"/"Why didn't you answer?" were asked simultaneously.

"Sleeping. Now tell me what's wrong." He could see she was rattled by something.

She giggled and went to sit down in the seat she occupied the night before. "You know, all this is coming at me pretty fast and I just need a moment to wrap my head around it, ok?"

A little annoyed at the wake up call, Sam said, "Fine, just try not to take too long. Because once Dean's awake we, as in him and me, have to figure out a way to deal with this bastard without getting caught by the cops for this whole mess the Shifter created."

"Not sure if that's going to be easier or harder now." She frowned.

"And why is that?" A groggy, deep baritone joined the conversation. Sam quickly turned to see his brother struggling to sit up and took a step toward the bed. He stopped at the slight wave Dean made, as his brother smiled/grimaced and said, "See, already awake."

"How do you feel?" Sam couldn't stop the question from tumbling out of him.

Dean's auto reply of "Peachy" quickly dismissed his younger brother's hovering. "Now how about you tell us what's going on?" He asked Jenn.

Jenn fidgeted with her hands. "Well, I couldn't really sleep last night, ya know? So when morning came I started figuring out what we might need to do today and get. I've already found a local medical supply store and purchased some things over the phone. We should be able to go pick it up when you're ready. If I missed anything, we can grab it while we're there. Or you can let me know what you need and I can arrange to have it delivered or go get it for you. Just let me know."

Sam answered calmly, "It's ok, we can get it."

With a raised eyebrow, Dean glanced at his brother before looking back at Jenn. "Anyway, go on."

She blushed, "Sorry, I tend to ramble a bit when I'm anxious. You're right. As I was saying, I ordered supplies and called the hospital to check when visiting hours started in case you wanted to speak with Becky again. And then I called the Police Station. I asked when we could arrange another consultation with the fake Dean, and was practically put on permahold. I was just about to hang up and call back when someone finally got back on. We have an appointment to speak with U.S. Marshall Patrick Georgens at 11." Jenn glanced poignantly between the brothers.

Dean slammed his fist down on the bedside table almost knocking over the empty soup bowl still sitting there. "Dammit!"

Sam frowned at his brother then looked back at Jenn and noticed her dark expression as well. "Alright, I'm missing something here."

"U.S. Marshalls are called in to transport prisoners between jails, to courtrooms, or anywhere else they need to go." Dean explained.

"Sam, when I first arranged your meeting they told me that Dean was to be moved soon, could be even as early as last night. Even if that were the case, the normal procedure would be to provide the prison facility's information for me to arrange a meeting there. It's unusual to actually meet with the Marshall in charge of the transport, unless ..." Jenn explained, leaving the end of her sentence hanging ominously in the air.

However, Dean automatically picked up the slack. "Unless something has gone wrong during transport, which means one of two things; there was an accident – but highly unlikely with our luck – or he escaped."

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Ha, ha – told you this was far from over. And thanks to my wonderful hubby who got me this awesome book for Christmas about Police Procedures and Investigations for writers, I can honestly say that my educated guesses do have some basis in fact. ;) U.S. Marshalls do transport criminals between locations, running ConAir and all that good stuff. Just can't confirm everything else is fact, only speculation. So please forgive me on that point.

Anyway, thanks again to all my wonderful readers! It is truly awesome to read your reviews and comments. If my chapters make you a little happy on Monday, that's great. But it's your reviews that really make the day shine for me! Especially since the past few Mondays have been bears.

My quick shout outs to my anon friends – _Shawna_ – Yeah, that might take a bit before that question is answered, but I think the stuff between now and then will be just as good. And sorry, I do love a good cliff hanger, even when I'm reading! I'm trying to keep them at a minimum here but I can't help a few slipping through. ;) Thanks again. _Cecile_ – I'm glad you found it too! More to come! ;)

With that being said, please indulge your faithfully addicted Stat Whore here and send me a review, alert or fave if you have a mo. You guys rock!

~Ari :D


	9. The Marshal

"Escaped? Dammit! How could he have escaped?" Sam demanded.

Jenn answered solemnly, "That's more than likely what we're going to find out when we meet with the Marshall. To be honest, he sounded a little shaken when I was speaking with him."

"Well, that can't be good," Dean scoffed. He sat there for a moment; thinking. The whole situation was quickly spiraling out of control. Before, they had time. Before, they could strategize and plan as he recovered. Before, their only concern was how to get to the creature to take it out. Now, everything had turned on its head. This monster was now out and about and free to create as much havoc as it wanted. All the bastard really needed to worry about was what skin it was going to wear. Another scary thought hit him suddenly. "Sammy, when you saw the Shifter yesterday, did you touch him?"

Sam shrugged. "If punching counts as touching then yes, why?"

_Shit!_ From bad to worse. Safety was completely out the window now. And if they were all compromised… _Shit!_ Frustrated, Dean looked at their recent addition, "What about you, Jenn?"

"No," she answered firmly. Then as she stared hard at her co-worker, she fumed, "I wasn't even in the room, because if I was, I don't think I would have been very happy with Sam then." Sam was about to defend himself but was cut off before he could start.

"Good. That's good. That means he probably doesn't know about you - yet." Dean thought out loud, the other two occupants eyed him warily. After a moment he noticed their gazes and ordered, "Sammy, get packing."

Sam balked, "What? Why?"

"Don't argue, just get packing." Dean glared at his brother. They didn't have time for this. The Shifter could already be on their trail. Without looking at her, Dean instructed, "You too, missy. We need to get moving."

"But we only checked in yesterday and this isn't over yet." Jenn stated firmly. Thoroughly confused by the command, she just couldn't believe Dean would give up so easily.

But Dean was dead set on what needed to be done, so he gave them the quickest, briefest explanation he could, "Exactly. This isn't over, which means we aren't safe here anymore. We can't stay any place too long or else he'll just use our memories to find us. We have to keep moving. Jenn, you're gonna have to set up a new hotel every night and you can't tell either of us where we are."

"Dean," Sam's irritation bled into his tone, "Aren't you taking this a little too far? A new hotel every night?"

"No Sammy, you don't know this thing like I do!" Dean ran his hands through his hair. He should have known better. Time apart had allowed him to forget some of the issues that existed before Sam had gone to college. One was his insatiable desire to know everything all the time, even at inopportune moments, such as this.

Sighing, Dean knew he wouldn't get his brother's compliance without some sort of explanation. Hazel met hazel as their eyes locked. "When I was down there, that thing ripped everything outta me. It knew that I had no back-up, that no one was gonna come looking for me. It thought I was gonna be it's little pet until I died. So it had no problems spewing info at me. It knew I was curious and it thought by my knowing and not being able to do anything about it, it was torturing me in some way. It figured any secrets it shared would stay trapped in those tunnels. It never expected me to get out."

So the creature decided to have a little heart to heart with his brother, but that still didn't explain his brother's insane actions. Sam questioned, "OK, so it told you things, but isn't this a little extreme even for you?"

Shoulders sagged, eyes closed, the elder Winchester pinched the bridge of his nose. "You wouldn't think so if you knew."

"So enlighten me." Sam practically begged.

Dean looked back up at his brother, weighing what exactly he should reveal right now. Taking a deep breath, he decided. "He told me shortly after he got me that taking another person's image by sight only is difficult but not impossible. The more you practice the better you get. But if he wants to truly become that person he needs to touch them, sometimes in a previous form he will bump into them while they are walking around or he'll break into their house and steal some of their personal things."

"Like Zach." Sam's eyes darted over to Jenn, both recalling their conversation with Becky and the break in.

Not missing their silent communication nor the meaning behind it, Dean continued, "Right, he stole some clothes, and not clean fresh ones from the closet, but stuff out of the laundry bin. Worn and used and lined with original DNA."

"That's disgusting." Jenn said. The look of disgust on her face was priceless.

Smirking ruefully, the older brother commented, "That may be for us sweetheart, but its exactly what it needs to get the full transformation and access to memory download."

Realization, slowly began to dawn for Sam. "So once the Shifter has a piece of the template it has full access? That's how it taps into memories?"

Dean nodded. "When you punched him you unwittingly gave him everything he needs to become you and nab your thoughts."

"Great, just great." Sam threw his hands up into the air and then carded his fingers through his hair before locking them into place on top of his head. Man, this situation just kept getting suckier and suckier. If everything his brother said was true, then they were in deep shit. "So if you or I know where we are, he can steal that knowledge right out of our minds?"

"Yup."

Sam stood there for a moment absorbing the reality of their messed up lives, when another thought occurred to him. "Well, even if that is true, I still don't see why we have to leave. If he did escape, he's probably long gone by now. We'll probably never find him." Dean's gaze slid to the ground, his shoulders slouched further after he rolled his shoulders. Sam recognized the motions. Frowning, his hands dropped to his sides as he pressed, "Dean, what haven't you told us?"

Without looking up, Dean began softly, "That first night was horrible. He tried all kinds of torture. But you know me, couldn't let it win." He offered a sheepish grin that quickly faded. God, how he wished he didn't have to tell his baby brother anything about what happened during that time. Unfortunately, he knew he wasn't going to be able to get out of telling Sam some things. Reluctantly, he went on, "But it seemed to excite him more. He said we were a lot alike. It said… well it doesn't matter what it said really. Bottom line is it decided it wanted to keep me. I wasn't about to let that happen. So while he was out, I picked the lock on the hand cuffs. Just couldn't get anywhere before he got back. After he punished me for trying to escape he told me that I could run to the ends of the earth if I wanted but he'd still find me. Because once that touch was made he said he owns me."

Exasperated, Sam sunk back down on to the bed across from his brother. In the time apart, some things had changed and yet somehow a number of things remained the same. Shaking his head in wonder, he asked, "How is it you always get caught up in situations like this?"

A cocky expression slowly overtook Dean's somber features. "Lucky, I guess."

Sam smirked in response. "Not exactly sure I'd call it luck."

"Well, what can I say, I'm irresistible." Dean shrugged and then winced at his sore shoulder.

"As much as I'd like to let you two carry on," Jenn interrupted, "if what Dean says is true, we don't have time for this. And we've got a lot to do before Sam and I can meet with the Marshall." She stood up from her chair at the table and started for the door.

Dean shook his head. "Wait, I'm coming too."

At this Sam also shook his head. "No, you can't. If Shifter-Dean has broken out, _you_ are an escaped criminal." Sam pointed at Dean as he spoke. "You can't expect to just walk into the precinct you escaped from and walk back out."

Damn, Sam was right. His need to protect his brother had overpowered his judgment for a moment. Begrudgingly, he relented, "Fine, then what?"

Sam sighed, "We'll figure something out." He could offer nothing else at the moment though, because he honestly had no idea what they were going to do.

When it became obvious they were at a stand still at the moment, Jenn decided it was time to get things done. "Dean, I'll warm up your dinner and bring it over, then I'll get my stuff together and set everything else up." She hurried out only to return a few minutes later. She handed Dean his food and left again to make arrangements.

It didn't take long for her to get things rolling. Jenn called down to the front desk to inform them of the early departure. Next she looked through the phone book to set up the new hotel. Once that was taken care of, she finished packing and headed back to the boy's room.

When she got there, Dean's dinner was gone and Sam was sitting next to him waiting to go. Donning a Stanford hoodie and a fresh set of sweatpants, the older man looked positively put out. Curious, she asked, "Did I miss something?"

Smirking, Sam shook his head, "Nah, He's just grumpy because he doesn't have his normal clothes."

"Oh." Jenn glanced Dean over again then offered a meek smile. "If it helps, it doesn't look half bad on you."

Dean's pout turned into a scowl. "Can we just go?" He growled.

Somewhat taken aback by the harshness of his tone, she cleared her throat before answered, "Sure, I just have to pick up the bill on the way out."

"Good. Sammy, keys." Dean's open palm hovered in his brother's direction.

Sam stared at it for a moment then glared at his older brother incredulously. "What? No way. You aren't driving."

Dean's anger grew. "It's my car, so I drive. And it's not like I haven't done this before."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam wasn't about to give this time. "I don't care. You're in no condition to drive. The swelling has gone down but that doesn't mean it's all better now. Can you walk, let alone stand on your own?"

"I don't need to. I'll be sitting when I drive."

"No, I'm-"

"Stop it!" Jenn had enough. This childish bickering was getting them nowhere. "If you two insist on continuing this pissing contest then give me the keys so I can drive while you finish this up in the car. We've got about an hour before the meeting and we still have stops to make." Equally chastised, the brothers looked at each other.

After a moment, Sam stated firmly, "I'm driving."

"Fine." Dean may have conceded this battle but he wasn't about to stop fighting. He stood up and took a tentative step with his bad leg. Pain shot through him, hovering just above Winchester tolerance. His gaze fell on the dreaded wheelchair. As much as he wanted to ignore the contraption, he also knew he needed to conserve his energy with the threat of the Shifter hanging over them. Ignoring his pride for the moment, he gingerly limped over to the wheelchair and flopped down into it. "Let's go."

The trio headed down to the lobby. Sam went to get the Impala while Jenn finalized their check out with Dean next to her. They were soon settled in the car and hurried over to the medical supply store. It was decided that Dean stay in the car while Sam and Jenn went in to pick up the order and grab anything else they needed.

A generally grumpy Dean was difficult to work with but an infuriated Dean was virtually impossible. And that is what they had to deal with when they returned. Jenn had bought an Immobilizer for Dean's leg which he adamantly refused to wear. In the end they had to drop it in favour of getting to the meeting on time.

Just up the road from the precinct was a Starbucks and they decided that would be the best place for Dean to hole up while they talked to the Marshall. It wasn't perfect by any means but with so many people going in and out it offered the best cover. The transition from car to table was painstakingly slow with Dean's leg. With time running out, they hastily got Dean settled in a dark corner table with a cup of coffee and Sam's laptop. The two were just about to leave when Dean asked Jenn for her cell phone. Reluctantly, she handed it over.

Automatically he dialed Sam's number and told him to pick it up and put it on speaker. "I'm just gonna listen in. I need to know what's going on and in case something happens here I'll already be on with you and you'll know right away too. Win-Win. Now hurry, or you'll be late." Dean smiled and shooed them out. Jenn left.

Sam leaned over and whispered to his brother before he left, "Try not to hit up every porn site while I'm gone. You're in public and I'll kill you if I get a virus." He teased. The journey from the Impala left Dean pale and sweating. And the only way he could think to hide his worry was with humour.

Dean actually looked insulted. "Sammy, I would never. I'm already wanted for murder, I don't want to add indecent exposure to my list."

Sam chuckled, "Whatever, dude. Just let us know the instant something comes up."

"Yeah, yeah, now git." Dean waved him away.

Sam joined Jenn outside and they walked the few blocks to the Police Station. They made it just in time, walking through the doors at 11 am exactly. Within minutes of checking in, they were escorted to a private little conference room and offered refreshments. Another ten minutes would pass before the door opened again.

A man in his mid-thirties strode in. He had dark hair and deep set blue eyes. He had a folder in his hands that he flipped through as he moved to sit across from them at the table. "I apologize for keeping you waiting but we were in the middle of reviewing the evidence for this case for additional clues." He closed the folder and dropped it to the table as he glanced up at them for the first time. His gaze scanned Sam and landed on Jenn.

For a moment the group sat in silence. Jenn's eyes locked on the man across the table until she remembered tp breathe again. Shaking herself from the momentary stupor she managed to keep her voice steady. "It's alright Marshall Georgens. We don't want to take up too much of your time. It would be much easier if we could just speak with our client instead of bothering you." She smiled.

The Marshall grinned. "It's no bother, I assure you. To be honest it is my mistake that we are even having this conversation," he added sheepishly.

"How do you mean?"

Lacing his fingers over the folder, the Marshall leaned forward. "Well, as Dean Winchester's Counsel you have a right to know. Last night, as I was in the process of transporting Mr. Winchester to the State Penitentiary he managed to escape."

"Escaped? How?" Sam asked.

The Marshall regarded the young man for a moment before he sat back. He ran a hand through his hair then scratched the back of his head. His gaze turned inward, as if searching for the right words. At last he said, "I've been a Marshall for over 10 years, and what happened last night was unlike anything I've ever seen before. I can't even be sure what I saw was real myself. No way I can expect you all to understand."

Sam leaned forward and looked the man directly in the eye. "Try us."

"Look, the official story is that he managed to break off a pipe from the toilet and knock me out then snuck out the back. But even that hasn't been sent to the press yet. Right now this whole case is being kept under wraps until we can make heads or tails of what happened last night."

"Perhaps we can help," Sam eagerly offered.

At that, Patrick laughed. "No offense, but what the hell could you do that we couldn't? You're just a kid. You're enthusiasm is appreciated but it would be best to leave this to the professionals."

A muffled laugh sounded from Sam's pocket causing Sam as well as Jenn to frown. Ignoring the interruption, Sam pressed his argument. "I understand your hesitation. But believe me, we can help with this case a lot more than anyone else in this building. You said yourself that the circumstances in this case are beyond belief. The mere fact you have an 'official story' means you can't explain what really happened, probably because the real explanation would make you all look crazy. I'm betting that the prisoner didn't use any weapon but over powered you because it had superhuman strength. And then he _changed_." Sam let the last word hang in the air.

Patrick was struck dumb. Wide eyed, he was surprised that this kid somehow managed to explain what happened without actually explaining exactly what happened. "How do you know that, kid?"

"Like I said, we can help." Sam put on his most honest and imploring expression, sensing the man was close to caving.

Leaning forward, the man obviously resented getting played. "Bull shit. You're probably in league with that monster."

Sam kept his features schooled. "No, we want what you want, because you're right, it _is_ a monster. And our family has been hunting monsters like him down for years. It's the family business. Dean Winchester, the _real_ Dean Winchester, was hunting it down and managed to find the monster but was caught before he could destroy it."

Patrick laughed. This was ridiculous and he felt like he was being mocked. All humour faded as anger quickly set back in. "Kid, I don't know what kind of game you're playing at but this has gone far enough. I don't have time for this. Now get out of here so I can find this psycho before he hurts someone else." Standing abruptly, Patrick was about to storm out when Sam jumped up and grabbed his arm.

"Marshall, please! I know how difficult this is for you, believe me. But we are on the same side here. That bastard tortured the real Dean down in the sewers and then tried to frame him. This isn't just a case for me, it's personal. And I'm more than Dean's Counsel, I'm his brother. My name's Sam Winchester."

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

I know, not exactly an exciting chapter, but please bear with me. And I'm sorry because the next few chaps may also not be very exciting although they are necessary. Just keep in mind, when the time comes, it will get better. ;)

All in all, I hope the chapter wasn't too bad. Not exactly my favourite, but like I said necessary. Also, I edited this while falling asleep again, the dang couch is just too comfy! So please forgive any typos.

Shout out to my girl _Shawna_ – Thank you again for the encouragement and support! My muse and I thank you! :D Also _Hermoine's Shadow _- Who says addiction is a bad thing? lol. Glad to have you along for the ride. ;)

Just one last note, I noticed last week's response seemed a little light. Not sure if it was due to so many fics being posted that day or if some readers didn't like the direction I was hinting at. Hopefully, those still reading are enjoying. If you are please review. It would really help me with the last few chapters. Lately it has been a little hard to get motivated to write. We're attempting to add a new puppy to our house but it's been rough and we're exhausted by the time I get back to a computer. So I've just been sitting there staring at the screen. You don't have to write much, just let me know if you are still there and want more. All your comments jazz up my muse!

Well, I think that's enough said on that, if not more than necessary. As always, thank you so much for reading, especially those who have reviewed, faved and alerted this fic! Much love for you!

~Ari :D


	10. 3 made 4

I apologize for not having this posted sooner. When I tried to post I kept getting an error from ff.n. The issue has finally been corrected and I am finally able to post. Again my apologies. Enjoy!

- S - P - N - S - P - N -

"What kind of fool do you take me for?" Patrick bellowed. "You're probably an accomplice to all these murders. I should have you arrested." The Marshal got up to leave.

Refusing to be threatened, Sam jumped up as well blocking his path. "Then you'll never find that creature and more innocent lives will be destroyed. I'm telling you the truth. Just give me a chance to prove it."

"How the hell are you going to prove anything without implicating yourself?" He jabbed a finger at Sam's chest.

Sam stood up straighter and crossed his arms. "Were you the only escort last night?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Before that, he was being held in a cell block with other prisoners?"

"Of course."

"Then I can guess what happened last night, and while not original it was still effective." The Marshal raised a hand, motioning for Sam to continue, who obliged him. "You were taking him down when he said he needed to go to the bathroom before you left. So it was probably just you and him in there, perfect conditions for what he needed. He attacked you and probably knocked you out. When you woke up he was gone and when you went to tell people about the escape no one saw anything but you. I'll bet they said they thought you had already left."

Patrick swallowed hard. "Like you said kid, not original."

The hesitant doubt he heard in the older man's voice told Sam exactly what he needed. He slammed the Marshal with the whammy he was working up to. "Did you see the skin?"

All color drained from the man's face. "But how…?"

"It sheds when it changes. Like a snake shedding old skin." Sam knew by the look on the man's face that he had nailed it. There was no way the Marshal could deny it now. "We found a number in the sewers when we were searching for my brother."

Slowly, Patrick sank back into his seat. He wiped his face, placed his elbows on the table and locked his hands together. Leaning his forehead against his fist, Patrick sat there for a moment before drawing in a deep breath. In a shaky whisper, he admitted, "I saw it….changing."

Sam eagerly took his seat. What the Marshal just shared was more than he could have ever dreamed. If Patrck had seen the Shifter change then there was no way they could blame Dean. Encouraged by this turn of events, he pressed his advantage. "Then you know what I'm talking about, that I'm telling the truth."

"I don't know anything!" Patrick slammed his hands on the table. "All I know was that thing wasn't human!"

Nodding, Sam agreed, "You're right, it was a Shapeshifter."

Patrick sprung from his seat and spun around. Hands fisted in his deep chocolate locks. "Aw, come on! This is ridiculous!"

"You know what you saw! You saw it changing." Sam challenged the man.

Patrick stood there for a long minute shaking his head trying to make sense of this royally messed up situation. In the end he slowly made his way back to the table and placed his hand flat against the cool surface. Drawing in a deep breath, the older man pierced the pair with his clear blue eyes. "Even if I believed you, you can't expect me to go out there and tell them that the escaped con we're looking for isn't really Dean Winchester but some kind of Shapeshifter, can you? Say it wasn't Dean Winchester that tried to murder that girl but some mythological monster. They'll lock me up instead!"

Sam knew it was too much to hope for to get Dean acquitted so easily so quickly. Still, all hope wasn't lost if he could at lease gain another ally in their arsenal. "No, I don't. All I want is to work together to bring this monster down. As I said before, this is personal. We have reason to believe the creature is still in the area and suspect it's going to attack again."

Eyeing the young man suspiciously, the Marshal asked, "What reasons?"

"I'd be happy to explain everything to you, but I think too much has been said here already." The youngest Winchester had given the man enough to get him hooked. But to say any more now could prove dangerous for them all. What he really needed to do was get back to his brother. Dean was once again alone without back up and by the sounds of it, the creature had an virtual walk-in closet worth of skins he could wear. If the Marshal wanted in, he would have to play by Winchester rules. "If you want to continue this conversation then it will have to be somewhere else."

"Where did you have in mind?"

Glancing quickly at Jenn, who was content to remain silent for now, then back to the older man. "Well, for starters, Starbucks."

"You've got to be kidding me." Patrick laughed. This whole situation was just absurd.

"Alright, not so much going there to talk but to pick up someone."

The meaning behind that statement was obvious. Still, Patrick eyed him curiously. "Let me guess, your brother."

"I'm not at liberty to say at this point." Sam smirked. "So how about it, Marshall? You want to get this bastard or do you go back to hunting down an innocent person?"

Leaning forward, the U.S. Marshal stated in a clear, firm voice, "I want my prisoner back."

"Then let's go." Sam got up with Jenn following suit. They were about to head out when noise erupted from Sam's pocket.

"Sammy! Sam!" Dean's voice crackled through the material of Sam's jacket. Reaching inside, he pulled out the phone and put it to his ear.

He listened for a few moments, nodding. "Fine, I'll see what I can do. See you soon." Turning back to the other man, Sam smiled sheepishly. "Marshal, I know I've already pressed my luck here pretty far, but I need to ask you for one more favour."

- S – P – N –

Ten minutes later Sam and Jenn were walking into the Starbucks with Patrick trailing behind them. Dean was still sitting in the same place the pair left him. Dean glanced between all three of them as they stood over his table. Gruffly, he said, "Well?"

Sam tucked his fingers in his hip pockets and answered his brother. "Well, we're going to talk but we can't do it here. And we shouldn't go to the hotel yet until we know we won't need to go anywhere. So we have to figure out a good place to talk, privately."

"Simple, let's book a conference room and hash this puppy out." Dean's mocking tone denied any validity to his request.

Jenn offered an empty smile as she commented, "Well, if this was a _normal_ situation, I would have already had the room arranged, but seeing as this is anything but, I would say come up with a new plan."

Patrick seemed equally unhappy about the current predicament. After a pregnant pause, he tentatively suggested, "We can go to my apartment."

Sam's lips quirked in contemplation before glancing back down at his brother. They shared a look, deciding without speaking, and turned back to Patrick, "It probably wouldn't be a bad idea for a start. That way you can grab some things before you leave."

"What do you mean leave?" Surprise lacing his tone.

Dean looked up at the man hard then laid it out for him. "You said the Shifter changed into you, which means he now knows everything about you; where you work, favourite restaurants, what hand you use to wipe. Every thought, every dream, every nightmare. This thing now has access to them all. It will use any and all against you. For your sake I hope we take this sucker down before it can cause any more damage." Dean frowned as another thought occurred to him. "Do you have family?"

"Yes, but she's in Nevada right now."

"Good," Dean nodded. "This thing isn't about to skip town yet so she should be safe for now. And if we take it down, then you won't have anything to worry about."

"How can you be so sure about that? How do you know this shifter-thing is around still?"

"Later," Dean dismissed the man's questions quickly. "But right now we need to move. Did you bring the stuff?"

"Yeah, in my car. I'll show you when we get to my apartment."

Dean nodded his approval. The newly formed quartet quickly broke down Dean's set up.. Sam held out a hand for Dean to take, but his older brother wasn't ready to take it. His pride wouldn't allow him to accept the help in public. Using the chair and table, Dean pushed himself to his feet. From there, he did his best to walk as casually as he could out of the coffee shop. Once outside, Sam, Jenn and Dean climbed into the Impala and followed Patrick's Charger back to his place.

It didn't take long to reach a small cluster of buildings that advertised short term rentals and furnished apartments. The place looked well kept but lacked a sense of home. The lot was virtually empty. Climbing out of the back seat, (which he had been forced into since that morning by both Sam and Jenn in an attempt to keep his leg straight and supported) Dean leaned against his baby and huffed, "This place is cozy."

Patrick walked over to them carrying a box. "This place is temporary. Only here a few more weeks til my shift is up."

"Shift?" Sam pondered aloud.

Patrick shrugged, "Can't be too careful. Cons sometimes aren't as rehabilitated as they claim to be. Retaliation or revenge is a constant threat. So we don't work in the same place we live."

"Don't piss where you sleep kind of a thing." Dean added his own unique perspective to the conversation.

Patrick grinned. "Yeah, in a manner of speaking." He had to admit he liked Dean's straight up, point blank, in your face kind of attitude. In his line of work, he had learned to see through the false bravado of his prisoners, their dark and nasty words that they used to mask their own troubles. While Dean still had a mask, he could see that the kid was grounded in a harsh reality that molded his personality.

"That my stuff?" Dean asked, bringing Patrick back from his thoughts.

"Yup." He was about to lead them up to his place when he looked Dean over for the first time. The shadowed interior of the Starbuck's and the need to get to a secluded spot, kept his focus from the older Winchester. But now that he had a chance to look over him in the glaring – and unflattering – light of the sun, Patrick couldn't believe the kid was walking around on his own.

Automatically, the Marshal started categorizing the wounds. He noticed some bruising on the kid's face and how every breath seemed to be calculated and measured. He also realized Dean's grip on the car was more than a casually hold, more like if he let go, he might just topple over. Recalling the badly hidden limp at Starbucks, Patrick realized the kid was in bad shape. And if his brother could be believed, it had all happened at the hand of the Shifter.

He glanced at the other two and discovered they were looking at Dean with well hidden concern as well. It was their duel looks of weary compassion that had him suggesting, "You could always go through this down here. No sense lugging it up only to bring it back down again."

Dean regarded the Marshall for a moment. And just like that, in the blink of an eye, Dean locked away all pain and emotion except anger. He slammed the door shut and ordered, "Let's go."

Patrick wasn't about to argue. It was obvious Dean had seen right through his casual comment to the underlying meaning. He had seen plenty of people like Dean – any show of weakness, no matter how small, will not be tolerated. They would sooner run themselves head first into the ground than willingly allow others to witness their lack of ability. So he turned and headed toward the staircase. His apartment was on the third floor. He heard the audible sigh from the taller Winchester before they all started to follow.

By the time they got to the top, Dean was gulping down breaths and fighting to stay on his feet. He took one step at a time, slowly dragging up his bad leg. It felt like an eternity of steps when they finally reached the top.

Still, Patrick ignored him as he continued on along the walkway. "My room's right around this corner."

Sam silently went to help his brother who vainly attempted to shrug him off. Exhaustion was quickly setting in. It only took one faltered step for Dean to finally relent. The trek from the Impala to the Starbucks entrance was only a few yards and a half-step away. And while that was annoying it was close and Dean was just so glad he didn't have to sit in that damn wheelchair any more. However, after walking about 50 yards and climbing 3 flights of steps, Dean could really feel the toll it was taking on his body. Good news was that from the top of the stairs, Patrick's room was literally a few steps away around the corner.

Once the group was inside, Dean grumbled. "This place ever hear of elevators?"

"Sure, but paying for them is a whole other story." Smiling, Patrick placed the box on a small coffee table in front of the couch. "Well, there you go."

Dean flopped down on the couch and relaxed. He didn't even bother reaching for the box. He muttered a quick 'Thanks' and allowed himself a moment to breathe.

"Well, where should we begin?" Patrick asked.

Sam sat on the arm of the couch near his brother. "Could you tell us what happened during the escape? You mentioned seeing it change."

"It was the damndest thing I ever saw. As you guessed, when I was escorting it out he asked to go to the bathroom. We'd been trained for this kind of situation. So I watched him like a hawk and didn't see any sign he was ready to pounce. In fact, when he did turn and hit me, I still had no idea it was coming. Next thing I knew I was kissing tile. Later as I regained my sense, I could hear these awful sounds close by. And when I managed to turn my head and see what was making the noises, I couldn't believe it. It was twisting and turning and ripping skin from it's body. If I wasn't so dumbstruck I probably would have lost my lunch right there.

"A minute or two later and it was done. It turned around and looked right at me. It was like looking into a mirror only a hundred times worse. It didn't seem happy to see me awake because it stomped over and then knocked me back out. Next time I woke, he was gone, I had a massive headache and was stripped of my uniform. The chain and jumper were in a heap next to me and just past that was the pile of skin. That's when I finally lost my lunch." Patrick gave a nervous chuckle.

"After that I quickly got on the overalls and went out to report the escape. That's when they told me that I had left stating that the prisoner transfer was supposed to be tomorrow night not that night. And they let me walk out. Had to leave most of my personal stuff in a locker for the transport which he left behind but I thought it strange that he also didn't used the Police transport. Must of fled on foot."

"Pretty much, found the nearest sewer and took off. He won't be easy to find. We're gonna have to draw him out somehow." Now that Dean had a moment to recover, he leaned forward and opened the box. Inside he found his clothes and a few bags that contained some of his smaller effects. He briefly rummaged through everything. "Son of a bitch!"

Concerned, Sam asked, "What's wrong?"

Dean ignored that question and asked the Marshall one of his own, "Was this everything you got off the shifter?"

"Yeah."

"Dammit."

Again Sam asked, "What's the matter?"

"Bastard still has my necklace." Dean answered with a pointed stare at his brother.

At first Sam didn't understand what Dean was so worked up about and then it hit him. Automatically, he consoled, "We'll get it back dude. Don't worry about it."

Dean still wasn't happy but there wasn't much else he could do about it. He turned back to Patrick a moment later. "And I'm guessing my gun's still in the station lock up?"

"Well of course."

"Great, no way you could get your hands on it could you?"

Shaking his head, Patrick answered, "Not without a lot of questions."

Dean nodded knowingly, but it was worth a shot. "See what you can do when this is all over. For now, we have more Silver bullets in the trunk. Just make sure your shots count," he cautioned.

"Is that how you kill this thing? With Silver bullets?"

Sam's geek-mode kicked in. "Yeah, a number of creatures have a reaction to Silver, I believe it has something to do with the refining process that purifies the metal. Most religions and cultures have a few items that are considered sanctified or pure, most commonly salt, holy water or silver. For Shapeshifters and Werewolves, a Silver bullet to the heart should kill them."

"Thanks for the history lesson geek-boy," Dean interrupted before focusing his energy back on the older man, "Next question, were you able to get copies of the Security Camera tapes?"

At that Patrick smiled, "It's a new age boys, tapes are obsolete. It's all digital now." He pulled a USB drive from his pocket. "Let me hook up the laptop to the TV so you can see it better. Give me a few minutes." Patrick moved around his apartment and pulled out a laptop. He took a wire dangling on the TV stand and plugged the machine in. Apparently, he had done this enough that everything was already in place, just needed to connect a few wires together.

Once the TV was on and projecting the laptop display, he plugged in the thumb drive and let it load the folder. He then reached down into the laptop case and pulled out a small remote. Turning to the waiting group, he finally asked, "So which one you want to see first? Honestly, there isn't much to see on either. They show up for only a brief moment before moving off camera. We've reviewed them a hundred times."

"Well, we'll take another look to be on the safe side. Sometimes fresh eyes can catch things others missed." Dean stated matter-of-factly.

"Whatever."

"Hey, if you've already seen these, perhaps it would be best for you to pack while we check them out." Sam offered.

Patrick nodded and was about to head back into his bedroom when he paused. He looked at the two brothers. "You guys do this sort of thing all the time? Take out monsters?"

"Dean, more than me. I've been chasing a college degree for the past few years." Sam answered sincerely.

Patrick watched Sam for a moment then turned to Dean. "You said, this thing knows everything about me and will use that against me, right? You told me you can take this thing out. And you also said my family was safe right now, but can you guarantee it?"

Sam stood up, placing himself slightly in front of his brother protectively. "Dean and my Dad are the best at what they do and they don't leave jobs hanging."

Dean pushed himself up and off the couch, stepping around Sammy and met Patrick's ice blue gaze. "I swear to you on my life, I am going to find and kill this thing. I won't let this thing hurt any more innocent people, including your family. I promise." The elder Winchester vowed with such conviction that Patrick only nodded and then left the room.

Dean's eyes followed the Marshall out of the room and then he slowly sank back down into the couch, conscious of his aching knee.

Sam watched Dean carefully. He couldn't count how many times he had heard those words from his brother; _I promise._ Those words were meant to comfort. And for a long time, they did. Now they weighed heavily on his heart, because Sam knew what those words really meant. Dean would uphold his promise no matter the cost. In Sam's mind, Dean had already paid enough for protecting the world, and he just wasn't sure how much more his brother could take.

Despite looking a hundred times better than he had in the sewers, Dean was still far from recovered. Oh his brother was a master at hiding pain, even surpassed their father in that department. So it was easy to forget at times that Dean was still in no condition to hunt. But Sam also knew that for Dean, the hunt always came first. Only after it was all over would his brother finally take a step back to recoup.

Sam's only hope now was to find the bastard and take it out quickly. Sighing, Sam noticed his brother watching him. "What?"

Scowling, Dean didn't bother to hide his irritation. "I'm fine, Sam. Let's just get to work."

"Yeah, ok." Sam agreed. He hated how well Dean could read him even after so much time apart. Unfortunately, he would have to save his musing for later. They had work to do.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Another installment down, hope you all liked it. And thank you all soooo much for all the wonderful comments this week! I cannot begin to express how awesome you all are! This fic has hit triple digits which is incredible. Keep up the encouragement and I'll keep plugging away at those chapters for you. Much love for you all.

Now a quick Author's Note: The Marshal's "shifts" is a complete fabrication on my part. We were having a church picnic once and one of the people that was invited was a deputy for the Sheriff that covers that area. He declined the invite stating that he could not go to a place he patrolled in plain clothes because it could compromise his job. People he may have busted in the park might recognize him and retaliate. And if he was in plain clothes he had no jurisdiction to act against them. I found the situation fascinating and wondered why something like that wasn't set in place for high risk law officials like Marshals, Judges and Feds. So I decided as part of my plot to put it in place here. Just thought I should share that with you.

Also, last week I was on a bit of a low. But with the nice huge moon this week and your awesome reviews, things have looked up a lot. The puppy is even doing better. Looks like we're going to work through the issues and keep the pup for now.

Now for my shout outs! _Lobita_ – Aww, thank you so much for speaking for those lurkers out there. I must confess to being a lurker myself some times, so I understand. Thanks again for reminding me. ;) _Anon_ – No, normal evil is boring and over done. ;) We'll just have to wait and see what the muse has in store for the Shifter. I wouldn't say that. Let's just say the Shifter has options at the moment. We'll just have to hope when he is one of the brothers that Winchester luck does rub off on him. Thanks, it's fun writing their banter and yeah it's good Jenn is there to step in on occasion. And we know how much Dean respects law officials, so I felt it fitting. Let's just hope the Marshal is willing to work with the boys to take it out. Thanks again for reviewing! _Sweetpea_ – Thank you so much! I'm glad you are enjoying my little fic here. :D

As always thank you all for the reviews, faves and alerts! The statwhore in me is loving the attention, LOL. I know the action in this chap isn't too thrilling, just give me a few more chaps and I promise to kick it up a gear soon.

Oh! I almost forgot. I have a number of AU Plot bunnies breeding on my farm and they are making it impossible to pick one to develop. In fact I have several already started and a few more waiting in the wings but I just don't see how I'm going to get through them all. I was wondering if I were to post them anywhere if people might be willing to adopt some. Or at best I can offer to co-write or consult on some. Unfortunately, I just don't see myself completing many of them and I know how much I would love to read some rather than write them. I was considering posting the bunnies on my secondary Live journal account; musing_grounds; but if anyone knows of a better place I would appreciate the help. :)

Wow, sorry, this tag got the better of me. So I think it is time to wrap this up. See you all next week!

~Ari :D


	11. Lens flare

Jenn had watched as the Marshal walked away. His bewildered expression had mirrored her own not 24 hours ago, so it was easy to sympathize with him. Revelations like the ones the Winchester's knew always took time to accept. And so much has happened in so short spans that it was difficult to absorb.

Yesterday morning, when she woke up, she believed the stuff of nightmares only existed in the dark confines of the mind and movie magic. Now she knows that not only do those nightmares exist in the real world, but they were even more terrifying than any imagination could have conjured up.

Although even with this knew found knowledge, Jenn couldn't deny that evil didn't exist. In fact, working in the judicial system easily opened her eyes to that reality. She could only imagine what cruel brutality by human monsters, Patrick had seen.

Cautiously, she glanced at the brothers who were engrossed with the surveillance footage muttering amongst themselves, that Jenn felt her presence would not affect their search. She glanced at the door Patrick disappeared through and made her decision.

Inside, he stood near a dresser with his back to her. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. An empty bag sat on his bed. Not fully wishing to disturb his privacy, she leaned in the doorframe.

The soft sound of movement behind him made him turn. In the doorway, Jenn stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She offered a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You all right?"

"Yeah," he said as he rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Just a small headache."

"Understandable. So you are doing ok in here then?"

Patrick opened a drawer and started pulling out his clothes and shoving them into the bag. "Yeah. Not like I haven't packed before."

Stepping further into the room, she spoke in a gentle tone, "That's not entirely what I meant."

He paused and regarded her for a moment. Her warm brown eyes watched him as well. Slowly a smile spread across his face. "I'm a big boy. I can handle it."

"I didn't say you weren't," she teased. Her mood quickly sobered as she refocused their conversation again. "What I meant, is that it is a lot to assimilate in a short period of time. The world is different now from the one you knew yesterday. I just wanted to see how you were holding up."

"Well, it's not every day you find out that Shapeshifters and apparently Werewolves actually exist." He went back to filling his bag with clothes.

Jenn stepped around the bed and leaned against the dresser. "I know how you feel. This is all pretty new to me too. Yesterday morning I still believed that creatures like these were confined to books and B rated movies. Then I went on this crazy journey and found myself wandering the sewers in search of a monster's lair. I still can't believe I did that."

He turned to look at her. "So you're not a part of all this?"

"If you mean the whole Hunting thing? No. Sam told me about it yesterday while we searched for his brother. From what Sam eluded to, they both have been doing this all their lives. Personally, I think they have been doing this so long, they sometimes forget what it's like to have your world turned upside down so suddenly."

"But you and Sam do work together, don't you?"

"Yes, he's an intern at the Law firm I work for."

"So I guess that rules out crazy."

At that she laughed, "Oh, it's crazy alright, this whole situation is crazy but that doesn't mean it isn't true."

"So you believe them?"

"Don't you? I mean you actually saw it change, right?"

Patrick ran his fingers through his hair, his gaze turning inward. "I think so. I was pretty out of it at the time, sometimes I can't be sure what I actually saw."

"Well, all I've seen are the lumps of skin it shed in the sewers and I so hope to never see one again. You've actually seen the creature. You at least have something real to relate to."

"I guess." Thinking for a moment, he asked, "So, if you haven't seen it, that means you've just taken these boys' word on it?"

"Yes. Sam and I may not have been acquainted long, but I believe him. And Dean…" she shuddered slightly, "if you had seen him tied up in that sewer you would know he wasn't lying. This thing really is a monster." Her eyes started to glisten but she fought the tears back.

Grunting, Patrick muttered, "He looks bad enough as it is. I just hope he can keep that promise he made out there."

Jenn sniffled and wiped quickly at her eyes. Clearing her throat, she inquired, "You keep asking that. You said your family is in Nevada right now, right? They should be out of harm's way for the moment. Why are you so concerned?"

Patrick walked over to his bedside table and picked up a picture. "Gina. She's my world and I can't let anything happen to her."

Timidly, she wondered, "Is Gina your wife?"

"No," Patrick laughed, "My daughter." He handed Jenn the picture. It was a shot of Patrick and a young girl with some unique rock formations in the background.

Relieved, she giggled. "And your wife?"

"Divorced. She thought we were too young and got married for the wrong reason. Left five years ago and never looked back. It was rough at first, but it was better once she left."

"How old?"

"11."

"And she's in Nevada?" She held out the photo for him to take back.

"With my parents." Sighing audibly, he reclaimed the frame and stuck it in his bag. "But if this thing can look like me, what's going to stop him from going there and hurting my baby?" Anger laced his tone.

Jenn placed a hand on his arm, stilling him and drawing his attention back to her. Staring into his cerulean, she stated firmly, "We are. Sam and Dean know how to take this thing down. They'll stop it."

"Hey!" Dean called from the front room. "You want to come take a look at this?"

Jenn smiled reassuringly at Patrick before the pair went back out to the main room.

Patrick slipped back in to the Marshal role as he walked through the threshold behind Jenn. "What ya got?"

Sam nodded toward the TV. "Take a look." He pointed the remote toward the TV and unpaused the screen.

It was an image inside the Police Station that showed a hallway. As the video played you could see the Marshal and Dean enter the hallway. Together they went into a door above which had a sign saying "MEN." Sam hit the fast forward button and explained. "According to this Shifter-Dean and Patrick entered the Men's room at 10:43 pm. I'm skipping ahead to when they leave, or rather when the Shifter leaves looking like Marshal Georgens."

Sam resumes normal play as soon as the door opened. The Shifter pauses outside and glances around the hall with a smug expression on his face. As he walks off screen, Sam freezes the image. "He's walking out of the bathroom at 11:18 pm. He needs to get away but he doesn't take the security van that was scheduled to take him to the State Penn."

"And he didn't take my car either." Patrick added.

"This thing is smart." Dean contributed. "It knows that either vehicle would have been easy to track. No point in escaping if you can be found easy."

Sam continued, "So he fled on foot. Which means he could be anywhere wearing anybody."

"So how do we find him?" Patrick asked.

Sighing, Dean answered, "Easy, we don't."

"Well, that was helpful." Patrick through his hands up in the air. "You know if you wanted to know the times, I could have given them to you. No need to look at the video." He gestured toward the screen.

"We were looking for anything that might help us differentiate the Shifter from normal people," Sam explained, grinning, "and I think we found it. Check it out." Sam switched screens to another Security camera in the Station and hit play. "You can see he's trying to walk out discreetly, but someone stops him to talk."

"That's Mike Lennertz," the Marshal supplied, his eyes watching the video once more. "He and I worked together a few years back in Colorado, we've been catching up since I got here."

"Yeah, well, keep watching as he walks away," suggested Sam. Patrick saw himself glance up at the camera and noticed the light in his eyes. The younger Winchester continued, "We also saw the same thing happen when Zach was crossing the street."

This was nothing new to the official. He shook his head, explaining, "The analysts said it was some sort of lens flare."

"It's not." Sam argued. "It only happens to the Shifter. You can see in this shot alone that there are at least a dozen other people here and none of the have this 'lens flare' except for him." He glanced between his brother, Jenn and lastly the Marshal, the corner of his mouth quirked up. "They used to say the eyes were the gateway to the soul."

For a moment, no one spoke while they absorbed this new information. Patrick looked between the trio and voiced his thoughts. "Well, that's great. How does this help us? We walk around all of St. Louis with a video camera and hope to find this monster by spotting this eye flare?"

Sam shrugged and no one else offered a solution.

Frustrated, the Marshal's gaze fell upon the TV, he could still see Mike on the screen. Absently, he said, "You know, Mike told me that he talked to me, that's how we found out he left saying that he had the wrong date to pick Winchester up and was heading back home. He was certain it was me. Talked about our last poker game and everything."

"'Member that headache you had when you woke up?" Dean asked and Patrick nodded. "That was the Shifter. Just be thankful he did it while you were out. He can tap into your memories and take what he wants. That's how he knows everything about you." Dean stared hard at the older man with Patrick meeting his gaze head on.

He saw it now, in those expressive green eyes; the pain, the anger, the knowing. This young man had been the creature's prisoner and god only knew what transpired between them. Hell, he guessed, if the bruises and other injuries were anything to go by. And the haunted eyes that stared him down only validated his suspicions. No longer able to maintain that gaze, he glanced over at Sam and Jenn who both seemed to be lost in thought, thoughts that hinted toward a sad reality.

Just then, Sam startled everyone as he shouted, "Oh, my God, Dean! Last night, at the hotel!" Dean winced and turned away. Sudden realization dawned on Jenn and she looked at her co-worker anxiously.

But Patrick was still baffled, "What?"

Sam turned to address him, "About a half hour after the Shifter's escape, it attacked Dean."

"What? How did it find you? Why didn't you kill it?"

"It didn't attack him physically. We never saw it, we only found out what happened when Dean explained it to us." The trio looked to Dean, who sat on the couch with his back to them and his hands rubbing his head.

He could feel their gazes on him, asking silently to confirm Sam's statement. Taking a deep breath, he let it out in a soul-deep sigh. "The first thing he would have done was head back to the lair. After meeting with Sammy earlier that day and knowing it would be harder to break out of the state penn and get back there. So he knew he had to escape. And he needed to know if I was still there. If I was, he would have moved me to keep me from Sam. But when he found me gone, he needed to figure out if Sam found me or if I managed to escape by myself. Either way, he had to find me, find us. So he…" Dean swallowed hard.

"He found you?" Patrick asked.

Dean shook his head, "No." A choked snicker escaped him. "I didn't know where we were. I woke up in the hotel room so I had no idea. It pissed him off." Dean sighed again and his shoulders slumped a little further.

"But how can you know all that?" The Marshal pressed, but Dean didn't answer.

Sam stared at his brother for a moment. His brother's tone, his motions all told Sam a story he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear. "Dean?" When his brother remained silent, Sam slowly walked around the couch and sat on the coffee table across from his big brother. Dean still hadn't looked at him. Again, he gently prodded, "Dean?"

"I didn't want you to worry, Sammy," he said at last. "I could feel him sifting through my memories, but I didn't worry. I didn't think it would matter. When all it could find was that I was with you but not where we were, I could feel its anger. It wanted to punish me. It ripped my mind. I didn't want you to know, to see. But I screwed up." Dean's eyes stung but he refused to let them fall. This whole hunt was messed up. And it was all his fault. He laughed sardonically, "I screwed up big time, didn't I little brother? And look what happened. You dropped your chance at normal to come out here and fix the mess I made. You got me out of that sewer. Wasn't I already enough of a burden to you? I didn't want to add another one to your plate."

"Dammit Dean, you are not a burden. You're my brother." Sam's heart ached. After everything that had happened his brother was still trying to protect him. But it wasn't Dean's job any more. Sam was old enough to care for himself and share that burden. "I would do anything for you, you know that right? I came out here on my own, you didn't force me to come. I only wished I got here sooner."

"You shouldn't have had to come at all!" Anger flared, but not at his brother, at himself. Dean lurched up from the couch and ignored the brief dizzy spell from the abrupt change in position and the stab in his leg. "If I hadn't fucked up, then you would still be at Stanford living Joe College."

Sam jumped up as well, allowing his height to gain the advantage over his brother. "Yeah, and my brother would still be in the hands of that Shifter being tortured or worse. You think I would be happy with you gone?"

But Dean wasn't about to be intimidated, not now. He'd dealt with enough creatures trying to get the better of him, enough pain and frustration that he lashed out without thinking. His anger had become his shield of protection. "Yeah, well it hasn't seemed to bother you over the past few years! Why would you care now?"

Stunned, Sam slowly sunk back down to the coffee table, eyes glistening. It was true and he knew it. Dean, even their father, could have died a hundred different ways during that time and Sam would never have known. He couldn't formulate a defense, couldn't think, couldn't get anything out except a whispered, "Dean." And he poured his heart into that word. He only hoped it would be enough.

Sam needn't have worried. Dean regretted what he said even before the words left his mouth. He just couldn't stop himself. And when he saw his baby brother's hurt expression staring up at him, Dean felt his soul break a little more. _Damn that bastard Shifter, and damn himself too._ When he heard his name whisper past his brother's lips, he was transported back in time to when a very young Sammy looked up to his big brother. And it hurt Dean even more because he knew he had failed that little boy. All the fight, all the anger, all the strength drained out of him.

The jolt of agony that shot through his body when his knees hit the floor forced a cry from his throat. Nausea crashed into him. A moment later he realized he was on his hands and knees gasping for air. And his brother was right beside him offering comfort he so didn't deserve. Pushing himself away from the tender touches, Dean fell back against the couch. He concentrated on collecting himself. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

It tore at Sam's heart to watch his brother so out of control. With all the color from his face gone, Dean looked like a porcelain doll, and just as fragile. And that damn stubborn Winchester Pride demanded that Dean reject any and all help sent his way. All Sam could do was sit there and wait it out. Wait until Dean came back to himself and resumed his role as protector. For the mask to slide back into place.

It took a few more minutes for everything to settle. Dean offered a quiet, "Sorry, Sammy. I shouldn't have said that to you."

"It's ok, Dean. And you're right. I didn't keep in contact to make sure you and Dad were ok, but that didn't mean I didn't care."

"I know, Sam." Another awkward silence filled the room, until at last Dean cleared his throat and climbed back onto the couch. He could feel those eyes on him again. Eyes full of remorse and sympathy. And worse, pity. No, he could not allow that. He had to redirect their attention, get the focus back onto the Shifter and away from himself. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place and Dean could only see one option left. "Anyway, if we're going to get this bastard, we can't sit around here waiting for it. We need to draw it out somehow."

Worried by the abrupt change in subject, Sam questioned his brother, "How do you plan to do that?"

"By using me as bait."

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, this chapter was a real pain to edit. Wasn't entirely pleased with it to begin with. And on top of that, I was incredibly distracted because we had rented the 25th Anniversary of Les Miserables, which I hadn't seen in a long time and forgot how awesome it was. I feel so privileged having seen it on Broadway twice and once in London. Very powerful musical.

Anyway, enough about that. I really wanted to thank you all soooooooooooo much for all the wonderful reviews and faves and alerts you have sent this way! You all are the BEST. Even all you lurkers out there rock because it is the first time ever I received over 1k hits on one of my stories! So THANK YOU! Told you I was a statwhore. Lol.

Now for my shout outs: _Shawna_ – I am glad too. And I agree, I hope nothing happens to Patrick's family too. Thanks again for all your wonderful support. It makes me happy to see your reviews. :) _Efflorescent_ – Thank you so very much for all your kind words! They are so wonderful to see, you have no idea. Wow, you sure know how to flatter a person! And it is much appreciated. Lol. It's funny though because English was technically my worst subject in school. Hated research papers the most and now all I do is research and write. And I agree, the hit-review ratio is incredibly skewed. I know that, and on days when I am feeling down, I often forget it. I was a little moody that week. And I am so honoured to know that you, along with a number of others, have taken the time to share your thoughts on my story. It touches me deeply. Thank You!

Well, I hope this chapter wasn't too boring. And again I apologize for any typos. As I said before, I was incredibly distracted while I was editing this chapter. I will respond to last chapter's reviews later today as it is now 2:30 am and I have to go to work in a few hours. ;) See you all next week.

~Ari :D


	12. The Debate

"No! Absolutely not. It's not going to happen." Sam adamantly refused.

Even Jenn was protesting. "Are you out of your mind?"

"It's our best option. We need to draw the thing out and we already know it wants me so it's the logically choice." Dean argued.

But Sam wasn't listening. "There is no way I am just handing you back over to the creature. I'm not."

"You wouldn't be handing me over, I'd be walking into it on my own."

"Alright fine, go ahead and walk then – without limping." Sam crossed his arms, knowing how hard his comment would hit his brother. But he couldn't pull his punches right now, not with so much at stake.

Dean scowled. That was a low blow. He schooled his features into a mask of determination. "Limping or not, I'm going."

"Like Hell you are!" Sam blew up.

"It's my choice!" Dean growled back.

If Dean was able to stand, there would be no doubt that the brothers would be butting heads at the moment. (The jolt to his knee just before continued to stab at him without remorse.) But even from Dean's tense position on the couch and Sam's rigid position by the coffee table, you could feel intensity. The room was a virtual powder keg, with each Winchester holding a fuse with matches lit.

"Dean, try to see reason," Jenn interjected, hoping to stave off the explosion. "You're already hurt and it was that creature that did it. We just don't want you to get hurt any more."

Dean held Sam's gaze when he answered. "But that's the reason I'm the best choice. The predator always goes after the weakest of the pack, and that's me." Sam groaned in frustration. Instead of pushing, Dean allowed his cocky bravado to peek out. "Besides it's already got a taste of this fine bod," he said with a smirk and a wink.

Sam threw his hands up in the air and combed them through his shaggy hair. He just couldn't believe his brother. "Have you got a Death wish?" Sam demanded.

"No." Dean countered but he looked away at the same time, not able to keep his little brother's gaze.

"Well, then I'm not going to offer you up as a sacrifice."

"I wouldn't be a sacrifice, Sammy because you would swoop in and take this bastard out while it was focused on me."

"Yes, Dean, that is exactly what you would be. And as for taking this thing out, that would only happen _if _everything goes exactly as we planned it. And when has that ever happened? Never, that's when. A million things could go wrong and you could be killed. I won't risk that."

"It's not your risk to take, it's mine."

"No, it's ours. And I won't do it." Imploring his brother desperately, Sam spoke from his soul, "Please, Dean, don't make me do this. I can't lose you again." Almost losing Dean damn near killed Sam before, he just couldn't go through that again.

"Come on Sammy, you won't get rid of me that easy." Dean's attempted teasing failed miserably. God, how it ripped his heart out to see how much this was hurting his baby bro. But this was all part and parcel to the gig. That sacrifices did need to be made when it came to protecting people. He had to make his brother see this was the only course they had. "We need to take this bastard out and this is our only option."

Sam shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes as he stared his brother down. "You're not hearing me, Dean. I am not letting you do this. I am not going to lose you."

Glistening hazel eyes reached in deep and tore at his resolve. Dean could feel himself caving. They had lived through so much, dealt with so much that even four years apart couldn't break the bond between them. But life as a hunter was never easy. Sam had gotten himself out. He was free to live his own life. But not Dean. He knew long ago that this was the only path he could walk. And he always knew how it would end too. He had accepted that fate and whether he wanted to or not, Sam would have to accept it in the end too. "It may not be our choice."

Nodding, Sam turned away. It was too much. He stopped a few steps away, next to the recliner cattycorner to the couch and slowly sank down on to it. "God Dean, why do you have to be like that?"

"Like what? A realist?"

"No," he argued, turning to glare at the stubborn mule their father created. "Why do you always have to play the Hero? Like your life doesn't matter? Like its worth less than everyone else's."

Dean scooted to the edge of the couch, careful to keep his leg straight but thankful to finally be back at eye level with his brother. "What do you want me to say, Sammy? That if I had a choice to pick between some innocent person's life or my own, that I should choose them and walk away? If I had a chance to save them and didn't take it because it might cause me a little pain, I should save myself?

"If I did, then it would be _my fault_. They would be suffering because of _me_. That would be on _my_ conscience. If you can live with that then fine, but don't expect me to."

"That's not what I'm saying, Dean. I just want you to take care of yourself once and while. Don't go rushing in, especially when you're not up for it. And you're not, Dean. No matter how much you may think you are, you're not up for this."

"It doesn't matter if I'm up for it. It is what _I_ have to do."

"No, it's not. You're not alone anymore. I'm here."

"You mean, we're here." Jenn jumped in boldly, seeing her opportunity and taking it. "We're all in this together." She smiled reassuringly at Sam and he offered a grateful smile in return. From the glimpse into their lives that she had been blessed to witness over the past day or so, she had quickly come to care for them. It was so obvious to see how much they cared for one another, let alone the strangers that they willingly protected. She respected them. The same type of respect you show a Police officer or a Fireman.

It was then that she realized that Patrick hadn't jumped in too. Curious, Jenn glanced back at him and frowned. The man seemed to be deep in thought. "Patrick?"

As the two argued, Patrick had been mulling things over. He stood with one arm across his chest, hand holding the elbow of the other arm while he stroked his chin. Drawn back into the conversation at Jenn's prompting, Patrick answered, "I'm here. I'm sorry, I was just thinking about what Dean said."

"When? Said a lot of things just now." Dean teased.

"About drawing the creature in. Setting up a trap for it and making it come to you."

Sam shrugged, "Great, so what do you suggest?"

"We use Dean as bait."

"Finally," Dean cheered, "Someone with reason."

While Sam stood, his aggravation rapidly returning. "No. You know what, never mind, we'll handle this ourselves."

Jenn was shocked to say the least. "How can you say that?"

"That didn't come out right," the Marshal muttered as he wiped a hand over his face. "Look, I know how you all feel, what risks you would be taking. But I also know that we need to take this monster down and fast. If it's still here we have a chance of taking it out. If not, then God only knows what will happen. But the fact of the matter is that this creature could be walking around as anyone, right? And there's no other way to track it, no other way to call it out without waiting for another murder to happen. But if I was this creature I wouldn't want to give myself away by committing another high profile crime. So if he won't reveal himself willingly, then we need to draw it out. And the logical option is to set a trap."

"By using my brother as bait?" Sam snapped.

"In a way." But when Patrick glanced at the disbelieving faces of Sam and Jenn, he knew they weren't convinced in the slightest. "Listen, in our line of work, sting operations are very common. Take for example Sexual Predators and Illegal Dealings. In those situations we have people strike up a conversation, convince the perp that we want to meet or deal. We go to the scheduled meeting and if the perp shows and/or deals then we arrest them. Simple."

Dean was grinning. "See, I told you Sam, this happens all the time and it's our best option."

"This is standard procedure when dealing with _humans_, Dean," Sam argued, "not shapeshifters or werewolves or any other type of supernatural creature. And this is being done by trained professionals that have a plan and backup."

Patrick scratched the back of his head. "While I admit, these operations can be tricky and dangerous, we usually don't like to place civilians in unnecessary danger. However, you have both stated that this is what you do, what you have done for the better part of your lives. As far as I'm aware, in this situation you would probably be better trained than anyone in our Special Ops divisions."

"Exactly!" Dean agreed. He was ecstatic to finally have someone on his side for once, he was practically bouncing with joy on the couch.

Sam practically snarled at the Marshal, "You're not helping."

"Come on, Sammy, he's right and you know it. Supernatural creatures fall for this shit just as easily as humans do. Besides, this is what we've trained our whole lives doing. And it's not like we _haven't _done this before. Dad-"

"Was stupid. He never should have put us in those positions. Oh yeah, and how many of those did we walk away from Scot free? That's right, none. Case in point."

"Cut the crap, Joe Law. If you're so smart, then enlighten us, give us another option here? Tell us what your plan is to bring the Shifter to us?" Dean challenged.

Sam stood there for a moment desperately trying to come up with something. But with the pressure and anger that weighed heavily on him, nothing came to mind. Conceding only to show them the folly of this plan he decided to change tactics. "Fine, say we go ahead with this cockamamie plan of yours, how exactly are you going to draw it out. Go on TV and say, 'Hey, Shifter, want a piece of me, come get me'? Because that wouldn't just work on the Shifter but the Police too, ya know." After all, Dean was an escaped con - a wanted fugitive.

"I'm not that dumb, give me some credit here." Dean bit back.

"Really, cause you could have fooled me."

"Ouch. So we don't have details yet, but once we agree on a course of action, I'm sure we can come up with something that will work."

"Boys, I think you're forgetting something." Jenn said and they looked at her curiously.

"What?"

Even as she agreed to be part of this team, something had been niggling at the back of her mind. Something that was important that they over looked. It took a while but during their last exchange with Patrick, it finally dawned on her. "Why are we here having Patrick pack up? Why did you make me check us out of the hotel this morning? What is the big concern?"

Dean shrugged, "That the Shifter can tap our minds at any time, if it wants to. Take out thoughts, figure out where we are and what we're doing…" Dean trailed off as realization dawned on him. "Sonofabitch."

"A good offense is a good defense, right? We can draw up all the plans we want but if this creature can walk up and snatch our playbook, it's all over. So, how do you plan on stopping it from finding out that we've laid a trap for it? From what Dean said, this thing only needs a little touch to gain free access. It may be his prerogative to use that access, but if it gets even the slightest bit suspicious it will probably tap one of you and blow the whole plan. If it feels threatened then it will run and we are out a monster."

"Dammit." Sam muttered as he sank into a chair. He was silently relieved that the 'Bait' debate was officially over, this realization left them with no options at all now. The air of defeat already hung heavily in the air.

No one spoke for a long time. The situation was dire. Almost as if in turns, each one would open their mouth to offer up a suggestion only for it to die before a sound could breach their lips.

In the end it was the Marshal who shattered the silence with cold hard reality. "We're screwed."

"No, we're not." Dean protested.

Disbelief lined the older man's features. "Then what are we supposed to do? Live in fear for the rest of our lives, constantly on the move and hope this thing decides we're too much trouble than we're worth and goes after easier targets?"

"Moved around most of our lives - nothing new for us." Dean shrugged.

"Well that's great. But you guys aren't the only ones affected here. What about Jenn's family or mine?"

"Jenn's safe. The shifter didn't touch her." Sam jumped in, getting a little defensive now that the man was pointedly arguing with his brother.

"Just because it didn't touch her doesn't mean she's safe." He turned to glare at the younger Winchester. "Maybe from getting her thoughts tapped but if this thing can read yours, it might be able to track her down. And you can't guarantee that she'll never get touched by the creature, so she's still at risk."

Dammit, the man had a point. Something Sam should have realized early on. He had willingly yet unwittingly put her at risk, the moment he agreed to let her come along. And now it wasn't just her but her family too. God only knew how many that involved. Chagrinned, he looked to his older brother, "He's right, Dean."

It was obvious that Dean was thinking along the same lines as Sam. He should have known better. They were taught better than this. But he vowed, he wouldn't allow his mistakes to hurt those around him. "Well, it won't matter because this thing is going down. I swore that I would protect your family, and I will. We can figure this out, I know we can."

The Marshal had had enough for the moment. He had no idea how they were going to get through this. Defeated, he sighed and cast a dismissive wave in their direction. "Then figure it out. Way I see it, the only thing we can do now is keep ourselves hidden, and pray. I'm going to finish packing."

"Need any help?" Jenn offered, her deep brown eyes watched him thoughtfully.

Patrick smiled, "Nah, I'm good. It should only take me a few more minutes." He walked back into the bedroom.

The tense reticence clung to the room like a fog. For a while, they all stood there, lost in the mist of their thoughts. The situation was dire with no solution in sight.

After a bit, Sam decided to busy himself with breaking down the laptop connection to the TV and packing it all away. When he was finished he sighed, "It's already afternoon, maybe we should get something to eat and then head to the hotel."

Patrick walked in just then adding, "I need to get back to the precinct, first. I have to let them know what's happening - to a degree anyway. Besides, I can get copies of everything in the file thus far. I could meet you some place."

"That'd be great." Dean smiled sadly, he wanted to check out what exactly he was being accused of.

"Hey, do you think you can get your hands on a few more files?" Sam asked.

Curious, Patrick asked, "Like who's?"

"Got a pen and paper? I can write them down for you."

"Sure." Patrick walked over to a counter in the kitchenette and grabbed a small tablet and a pencil from a jar next to it then handed them over to Sam. Sam scribbled down the names quickly and handed the pad back. Patrick read them over and frowned. "You think all these are tied in with this shapeshifter?"

"Yup. It's what brought us here to begin with. Too many coincidences for these acts to be considered separate."

"I'm impressed. You guys detectives too?"

"We've just been trained to look for the patterns." Dean supplied. Glancing at the motley group that had formed, Dean turned on the charm. "We ready? Cause I could _kill_ for a Burger right now."

Sam groaned. "Not funny, Dean."

"Aw, it was a little funny."

Patrick ignored them as he started rummaging through his bag. "Let me just make sure I got everything I need."

Just then two sounds garnered their attention. The first a quick beeping followed by the second, buzzing from the vibration mode on the cell phone in Sam's pocket. Automatically, he reached down and pulled the device out, read the screen and froze.

Dean rose, wincing as pain pierced his leg, recognizing the distraught look on his brother's face. "What is it, Sammy?"

"It says I got a text message." Sam looked up and met his brother's gaze, then added, "From you."

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

_Trillll – thunk!_ Come on, you know you can hear that music, right? That sound they play right before commercial. Lol. I guess I have been watching first season too much.

Anyway, as always, thank you my wonderful readers for reading, reviewing, faving and alerting this fic! You make a girl Super Happy! :D Much love for you all. Just hope this chapter was at least a little more exciting for you. I know some of you were kinda looking forward to Dean's 'Bait' routine, but just like Jenn, I saw the flaw in that plan. Course, I have no idea how they are going to figure this one out. Thankfully, I don't have to worry about that, right muse? Muse? MUSE! Dammit.

Now for my shout outs – _Shawna_ – It's funny originally I had a whole other idea for that scene, but things changed and it was fun exploring it from a different angle. She's still getting used to the idea of monsters and she sees someone else in the same boat, may as well paddle together, right? Thanks again, always look forward to your reviews! _Shilo-Shadow_ – For the moment, looks like Dean got off this time. But we'll just have to wait and see how long that lasts. ;) Mwahahaha! Ahem, I mean. He'll be fine. Yeah.

And without further ado, you all have a wonderful week! See you all next Monday.

~Ari :D


	13. The Lull

Opening the message, Sam read it, his frown deepening. Dean reached out for the phone, which Sam handed over.

As Dean read the message, it was easy to see the fury slowly building inside. It took everything he had not to crush or throw the phone across the room. "Son of a bitch!"

Jenn frantically glanced between the brother's, the suspense was killing her. "What? What did it say?" With no answer forthcoming from Dean, she looked to her co-worker. "Sam?"

Sam watched his brother, not know what to do or how to help him. He didn't turn to Jenn when he answered, keeping his gaze firmly on his brother. "The message said, 'Dean- Hiding? This won't save you or them. You're mine. Come on. Not man enough to face me? Or just not smart enough to find me? Some Hunter you are.'"

"It's taunting me," Dean ground out.

"By what, insulting you?" Jenn laughed.

"No, by inferring that I can't protect you all or find him."

Sam's thoughts slowly dissected the text and he couldn't help the slight hint at hope he felt. This could be a good thing. "So he thinks that you might be able to figure it out then?" If only; then this could finally be over.

However, Dean's frustration only mounted. "That's just it, I have no idea where to look. He never said anything unless he wanted to gloat on how much pain he's inflicted." He ran a hand over his face, desperate to wipe anger and dread. He didn't want to revisit that time, but he might not be able to get around it. They needed to find this shifter and soon.

"Well, what about the sewer? Didn't you say that's where he kept you? Maybe another section?" Patrick suggested.

But Dean was already shaking his head no. "Even if this thing was a stupid critter, it would know not to go back there. And he's a smart bastard."

"So what now?"

Dean looked back down at the phone still clutched in his hand and dialed his number, mumbling, "Let's see if this son of a bitch is willing to face me."

They all waited with bated breath wondering if it was going to be as simple as picking up a phone and calling the creature out. But when Dean hissed 'dammit' a moment later, they realized this was only the beginning.

"It's his game now." Patrick spoke matter-of-factly. They were locked in a stalemate. Like many hostage or kidnapping cases, this was quickly turning into a waiting game. "It will be up to him on whether he wants to play ball or not. We're just going to have to wait it out."

"Great." Dean mumbled, not really reassured by the thought of sitting around doing nothing until the shifter decided to call them out.

"Well, at least we got some good news." Patrick smiled.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

He glanced around surprised to see all their confused faces. Grinning still, he enlightened them. "It's still here and it's focused on _us_, which means we don't have to worry about getting news on some more innocent people being terrorized."

Dean huffed, "No, just us." Yeah good news, no innocents will be at risk, but that skyrocketed up the risk, the four people in that room were facing. And for Dean, that was the worst possible news he could get. His eyes drifted to take in the sight of his younger brother, who was not surprisingly looking back at him. The worry and concern clear across the room peering through the hazel gems of both men.

Sighing, Sam knew there was nothing any of them could do at the moment. "Come on, let's go. May as well keep doing what we're doing until we can figure out a way to stop it."

And with that the group left the apartment, an apprehensive and uncertain future hanging over all of them.

- S – P – N –

The next few hours went by relatively smoothly for the group. Before they split apart, the quartet felt it would be best to give Patrick some time before meeting for what was now looking to be an early dinner. Deciding to maintain a low profile by blending in with the mass population, they chose to meet at the Galleria in two hours.

Patrick returned to the Police Station and advised them that he was working on a lead and may not be able to be reached easily. He was also able to obtain the files Sam had requested. Fortunately, he was able to get everything done quickly and head over to their rendezvous.

For the trio, Jenn conceded to Dean and let him sit in the passenger seat since he wasn't allowed to drive. However she watched him carefully. Within the first ten minutes of their drive, she had noted Dean fussing with his clothes and looking uncomfortable again. It was apparent that Dean was not happy and without being able to take his mind off of things by driving, he was getting more and more agitated.

Sympathizing with the older Winchester, she cleared her throat before saying, "Dean, would you like us to go get your stuff before heading over to the Galleria? We have time, you know?"

"Thanks but no thanks, darlin'."

Sam joined in, "It wouldn't be much trouble, just tell me where to go."

Shaking his head, Dean rejected the idea. "We can't go back there, not yet anyway."

"Why not?" asked the younger Winchester curiously.

"Because that's the first place it will look for me. Just like the sewers for him. He's probably staking the place out and I'm not risking all of us for some clothes and stuff. I'll wait until the job's finished."

"But that could be a few more days at least." Jenn pointed out. She thought for a moment when a playful smirk curled the corner of her mouth. "I'll make you a deal. How about when we get to the Galleria, we take you shopping? And don't worry, I'll buy."

Dean glanced back at her cautiously. "You don't have to do that, ya know."

"I know; I want to. Besides, I also know what it's like to be stuck wearing the same thing for a few days. With all the flights I've taken, there were a couple instances when the airline misplaced my bag and I had nothing until they located it and sent it to me."

Dean was genuinely surprised at her generosity and muttered a quiet, "Thanks."

"Although, I do have a condition first." Her smirk widened.

Hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously, he should have known there would be a catch. People didn't just do things out of the kindness of their hearts in his experience. "Which is?"

"That when we get to the Galleria, you put on the immobilizer and keep it on until we get back to the hotel." She sat back and crossed her arms in front of her, meeting his gaze smugly. "And if you refuse my offer, I will make sure that Sam doesn't lend you another piece of clothing until the job is done, as you say. So you better get used to that sweat suit, buddy boy."

"You are a cold hearted bitch, you know that, right?" Dean laughed, actually laughed. The sound made the other two occupants smile back. "Trying to take advantage of a wounded man. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Well, in case you didn't realize, I'm actually trying to help that wounded man you referred to since he won't do it himself." Putting amusement aside, her tone took on a more somber note. "Dean, you've been favouring that leg more and more as the day progressed. And if you don't get it some support soon, it's going to drop out from under you. Do you really want that to happen? Especially if we somehow find the Shifter."

His earlier mirth quickly faded. "No."

"Then use the immobilizer. It will help." She watched as Dean frowned and looked out the window. Sighing, she felt she should at least throw out there, "If it hurts your pride that much, I'll step out and wait while Sam helps you get it under your pant leg, ok?"

The older man didn't look back as he grumbled, "You're all heart, aintcha." While still expressing his annoyance at being manipulated, he relented nodding.

Jenn grinned. Despite his displeasure, she knew she had won this small victory for now and it was enough. "You can thank me again when this is all over." She smiled at Dean's huff.

The rest of the car ride was done in silence. When they got to the Galleria, Jenn stepped out and waited a few cars over to give the boys privacy. Sam was able to help Dean get the support under the loose pant leg of his sweats. When they were done, Dean climbed out of the Impala looking grumpier than ever. He hissed a "Let's go" as he brushed past her.

Sam trailed behind and gave her a sympathetic look. Softly, he muttered, "Thanks."

"No problem. Come on," she answered and they caught up to the older brother.

As they walked in they found a directory and located some of the stores Dean deemed ok to look in. Going from place to place, they slowly rebuilt Dean's wardrobe. It wasn't long before Patrick called and said he was on his way. He asked where to meet, which Dean emphatically replied _Five Guys_. They had seen it while walking around and the draw was just too strong for Dean to deny.

Back together again, the group had ate and in Dean's case eaten twice. Blissfully satisfied with belly full, Dean was ready to crash. It was time to head to the Hotel.

As they reached the Parking Lot, Patrick stopped them. "So, uh, how are we supposed to do this? If the only person who's supposed to know where we are is Jenn, then we can't take two cars."

"Looks like you'll be riding with us then." Dean smirked. "Grab the stuff out of your car and bring it over. Sammy can help you." He tapped his little brother's chest, volunteering him without a thought. Sam gave him his indignant, shocked expression, which Dean ignored and shooed him away.

Within minutes the others returned to the Impala and loaded the trunk. Finally, ready to go, Dean looked at his brother muttering, "I can't believe I'm going to say this." He took a deep breath and begrudgingly ordered, "OK Sammy, hand over the keys to Jenn."

Jenn couldn't stop the twinkle in her eye or the grin stretching from ear to ear from happening. She was about to reach out for the keys when Dean grabbed her wrist. He cautioned, "First, understand that this is only happening as a matter of necessity. Don't get too comfy with the idea. Second, if you so much as put a scratch on her it's coming out of your hide and your wallet."

"Don't worry Han, I'm not Lando, I know how to take care of my rentals. Besides, I would treat this with the same respect I would my dad's cars."

"It _was_ our dad's car," Sam mumbled under his breath. Dean threw him a dirty look.

Jenn placed her hand over Dean's. "I mean it. I wouldn't hurt this car. And I consider it the privilege that it is to even ride in it let alone drive it. Like I said, I'll treat it like my dad's. When I was a kid he used to restore Cougars, and while nothing like the Impala, I always appreciated the rumble and feel of those old big block kind of cars. And I always wanted to drive one, but my dad ended up selling them all before I got my chance. So this is an honour for me really." She endeared him with her childhood longing.

"At least someone appreciates her, besides me." Dean smiled.

"Come on, let's go." They all piled into the Impala, Jenn and Dean up front with Sam and Patrick in the back. Jenn couldn't suppress the giggle when she felt the engine roar from her touch. "Sorry."

"Just be careful, ok?" Dean warned again.

Smirking she answered, "Stop worrying and buckle up, … Han." She backed the car up and headed out of the parking lot.

When they reached the road, Sam spoke up, addressing another concern, "So what exactly are we supposed to do? Close our eyes and hope we don't accidentally peek and see where we're going?"

"Actually, I might have a solution to that," the Marshal interjected. "I was thinking about it when I stopped at the precinct. Sometimes we need to take a prisoner to an undisclosed location so we need to cover their eyes." Patrick dug into his jacket and pulled out a couple of pouches, handing one to Sam then Dean. He continued, "They are meant to be used as a sleep aid but they work great as a blindfold too."

Dean pulled the object from the pouch and groaned. "You've got to be kidding me. This thing looks like the bastard child of a bra and Batman's mask."

Chuckling, Patrick said, "You should consider yourself lucky. I remember when we were considering this or another brand. The other brand had multiple colors and designs, including pink _and_ flowers."

"Seeing as I don't have a choice, I'll take what I got."

"Go ahead and put them on now and relax. I'm going to drive around a bit before heading over. Sleep if you can and I'll wake you when we get there." Jenn made a turn as she watched her companions put the masks on. She hit power on the radio and turned the volume down as one of Dean's rock tapes filled the interior.

It didn't take long before the hum of the engine and the music lulled the boys into a light slumber.

- S – P – N –

Jostled, Sam woke with a start to a world of black. It took a moment for him to remember the mask over his eyes. Removing it, he found Jenn's smiling face hovering next to him. "Hey," she said, "We're here."

"Oh, Great." Sam looked over and noticed the Marshal and his brother were still sleeping.

"I'll get Patrick, you can have Dean." She was already moving around the back of the car before he could respond.

"Right." Still a little groggy, Sam climbed out of the back seat and made his way around to the Passenger door. He opened the door and nudged his brother then stepped back for the possible swing that might come his way. But instead of the reaction he was expecting, he noticed how Dean sucked in his breath and pressed back into the seat – as if cowering away from a threat. It made him frown. Deciding that dwelling on all the little changes in his brother was not going to get them anywhere right now, he filed it away for a future discussion.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, we're here," Sam teased.

Dean yanked the mask off and threw it onto the seat next to him. Grumbling, he argued, "'m not Sleeping Beauty, you're the girl. I'm Prince Charming." He grinned.

"Whatever, come on, let's go." The taller Winchester held out a hand and helped his brother up with ease.

In the back, Jenn had prodded Patrick awake. "Man, I wasn't even sleepy before." The Marshal complained. "No wonder when we use these things only the most psychotic or disturbed manage to stay awake." He shivered at the memory of those prior trips.

Without further prompting, the group gathered their things and followed Jenn to their room. They noted as they approached that she had parked on the back side of the motel blocking all view of the street or sign to keep their location hidden. Dean was actually rather impressed with the foresight.

Jenn unlocked the door and guided the group inside. Not feeling entirely comfortable with the continued silence she started rambling, "I got us two rooms; linked." She indicated the open doorway connecting them. "I came up quickly before I woke you to clear out any Hotel stationary or advertisements, I just hope I didn't miss anything."

She glanced over at Patrick who stood by the door not entirely sure what he should do. "Um, both rooms have double beds, I can order a cot to be brought up if you would prefer to stay on this side. Otherwise, you can take the extra bed in my room. If that's ok with you." Stumbling over her words and feeling like such an idiot, Jenn could feel the blush building as she spoke. She wasn't a teenager sneaking a boy into her house when her parents were away, she was a grown woman. Why the hell was she acting like this?

But as her cheeks slowly became bright red, Patrick's smirk grew into a full smile, which only made her blush more. "It's ok, I don't mind. Unless, you would prefer that I.."

"No," she said hurriedly, "No, it's fine. We're all adults here, right?" A nervous giggle escaped her. And before she could embarrass herself further, she dashed through the entry into the other room.

The boys glanced at each other amazed. For Dean and especially Sam, neither had seen her so un-composed before. A moment later they could hear her groaning and mumbling softly to herself. Patrick grinned. "Well, I'm going to go put my stuff down. We'll be back so we can start going over everything." He told the boys and then followed Jenn.

Sam and Dean decided that they weren't getting involved in whatever just happened and ignored them as best they could for now. Sam put his bags down and moved over to the small table in the corner and pulled out his laptop.

Dean flopped down onto the bed closest to the door and bathroom and sighed. The brief nap in the car had helped but his body was still very sore and achy. This wasn't by far the first time his body was battered and beaten while on a case. And he knew for certain that it wouldn't be his last either. Still this wasn't his favourite condition to be in. Perhaps a break after this hunt wouldn't be a bad idea.

He had downplayed his leg as much as possible but in his head he could admit even he was starting to get worried about it. Keeping weight off of it only went so far. And while he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of saying it out loud, he had found the support of the Immobilizer helped tremendously. The only problem now was that the stiff material itched against his bare skin. Cautiously, he pulled up the leg of his sweats and undid the straps then slid it off.

"Do you think you should be doing that?" Sam asked from the corner.

"Chill Sammy, I'll put it back on later. Just want to give it some air." It was throbbing still but Dean figured out if he didn't move it the pain practically faded to nothing. The swelling had gone down considerably since his rescue. Another day and it might be back to normal. He would just have to worry about it when the job was done. May as well get cracking. "Now would you mind handing me some of the files that Patrick brought?" Dean pointed at the box sitting on the dresser next to the TV.

"Whatever dude." Sam looked down at his computer which was still in the process of booting up, so he got up and retrieved a few of the files. He lightly tossed them on his brother's bed and went back to his computer.

"Thanks Sammy." Sarcasm dripping from his tone. Dean had to stretch to reach the files at the end of his bed, made even more annoying by his injured leg.

"You know, I've been meaning to talk to you about that," Sam said as he settled back in his seat.

"What?"

"It's Sam, now. Sammy is a chubby 12 year old."

"Whatever." Dean grabbed the remote from the nightstand next to him and turned on the TV.

Sam's brow furrowed. "I thought you were going to read the files?"

"I am, just want to make sure we block out any possible noises from next door." He waggled his eyebrows and jerked his head in the direction of their companions.

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. "The door is wide open."

"Wouldn't stop me." He tossed the remote back onto the nightstand.

"That's because you're a pervert. They are professionals and they've only just met." Sam pointed out.

Dean huffed. "Well, I 'just met' a lot of women in bars too, that doesn't mean anything."

"Just because you can't keep your libido in check doesn't mean that they can't either."

"Don't be jealous, Sammy. You know how hard it is for women to resist all this." Dean chuckled, while gesturing to his body.

Sam decided it wasn't worth the effort to keep arguing. Instead, he started working on his own research.

On the bed, Dean knew he had won this round. So he picked up the file that had his name on it and started reading.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

I know, I know, this was a boring chapter. But what do you expect from a chapter 13, right? Just bear with me, things will pick up soon. Although, I do admit that the muse for this is slowly fading. It's become very frustrating. I know I am very close to an end but thoughts are straying toward a new project. Take heart though because I am absolutely determined to finish this. I know exactly where I want this fic to end, just need to iron out a few things between now and then. As always, thanks for reading, reviewing, faveing and alerting!

Anyway, just as an FYI, the puppy didn't work out. It was a very difficult decision but one we felt was best for all parties. A lot of reasons behind it. He is up for adoption and we hope he finds the home that can fulfill his needs. So, with some of my time freed up, I have found myself neck deep in new research. Like I said, a new project may be afoot and I am diving head long in to Civil War era research. So if any of you wonderful readers out there know a lot about that time, I would greatly appreciate some assistance!

All I can say is that I have so much respect for Bobby (and the boys too) right now, with all the books I've been looking through and such, ugh. Research is a bitch! I remember now why I never did any in school. Lol. –sigh-

Well, no Shout Outs this week, so I guess I'll just wrap things up here. Have a great week!

~Ari :D


	14. Skin Deep

Jenn was riffling through her bag with a little more force than necessary. What was the matter with her? The last time she acted like this was when she moved into the dorms at Stanford; the co-ed dorms. It was her first experience living with strangers let alone co-ed strangers. And just because this situation was a little lopsided in the boy/girl ratio didn't mean she had to act like a teenager. Awkward and insecure.

Growling her frustration, she started mumbling to herself on how stupid she was acting. Of course, deep down she did know part of the reason. The last time she was interested in anyone was over 6 years ago and that relationship had ended badly. Anger and bitterness all around. After that she had focused on her career, throwing herself into it completely to take her mind off of the empty apartment she went home to every night.

When Patrick had walked into the conference room, his features were hidden behind that folder. But as soon as he put it down, her breath caught in her chest. If put up against some of the pinup men in Playgirl, no doubt Patrick would lose. But that didn't make him ugly. No, he was good looking in his own way. And there was just something about him that intrigued her.

She could see it in his eyes. They were that slate blue that were more grey than blue. And when she looked at them, it was like looking at a mirror. Not in the sense that she could always see herself reflected in them, but in the sense that when you look at yourself in a mirror you catch a glimpse of thought and emotion, but it's really only just an echo of what's inside. Almost like a superficial layer that hid what was really there. They drew her in.

But her professionalism kept her alert, pushing back her curiosity and intrigue and refocusing those emotions on the case at hand. That is until she was alone with her thoughts as she drove her sleeping passengers around. It was her job to arrange things, often on the fly and with contingency plans that had contingency plans. She had to be ready for every scenario. And 99.9998% of the time she excelled at her job. It was bizarre situations like this that played havoc with her success rate.

She set up the room that morning with the three of them in mind. And suddenly, Patrick was now included in their weird group. She knew it would have been just as easy to get another room as it would be to get a cot sent up. But that tiny little part of her inside had whispered that there was already a perfectly good bed in her room that he could use. And in the end found herself babbling like a schoolgirl as she offered it to him. She felt like an idiot.

Although, she couldn't quite stop the flutter in her stomach when he smiled and said it would be fine. Her own mouth quirked up at the memory.

Patrick walked in to the room. She glanced up at him, blushed again then frowned. Her thoughts were racing so fast it was hard to believe only a couple of minutes had passed since her humiliating experience. Jenn could hear him moving around the other bed and putting his stuff down. She grabbed her dress suit from the bed and went and hung it up in the closet to avoid wrinkles. Her hand lingered on the hanger while she sighed. Turning back toward the main room, she decided an apology was in order.

"Patrick, I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all before. It was not my intent-"

"Jenn, it's ok." He cut her off and crossed the room to stand in front of her. "I'm fine. And I appreciate you considering my needs when you didn't have to. After all I'm the third wheel, well actually, fourth wheel here. I can always pay for my own room if you want. I'm sure it would be covered by my boss."

"Money is not an issue, so don't worry about it. And with the circumstances it would be best for us to stick together right now. It's one of the reasons I got the connecting rooms. There's no barrier between us in case something happens, we can react quickly."

"That's smart thinking." Patrick turned around and headed back to the bag on his bed. "Although, I am a bit surprised. That takes a lot of trust."

"What do you mean?"

He sat down, glanced at the door separating the rooms and looked back at her. "Well, you said yourself that you don't really know these boys very well. Yet you seem to be placing a lot of trust in them, … and me. With the story they are spinning, most people would be calling in the guys with white coats to show them to a nice padded room and here you are bunking with them. You are so much smaller than them and they could easily take advantage of your kindness. And you know even less about me. Are you sure that your trust isn't misplaced?"

Jenn stared at the doorway for a minute mulling over his question before moving to sit across from Patrick. "You're right, this is crazy. Logic would dictate that this whole situation is some bad plot for a horror movie. Everything that has happened in the past 24 hours would make any reasonable person check into an institution. I can't give you a logical explanation, but I can tell you honestly that I trust them with my life." And Jenn meant what she said.

"Good, that's good to know. Let's just hope you don't have to test it."

"Me too." Jenn frowned. Patrick had made some good points. Was she placing too much trust in the boys? Since the beginning, Sam had seemed so sincere and so worried about his brother, and more importantly, so convinced it couldn't have been his brother. And Dean? Even if there wasn't a shape shifter involved, being kidnapped and tortured usually messed people up so much that they couldn't function for a long time. Yet he ignored the trauma (foolishly, in her opinion) so he could get back in the game and take the bastard out. People like that are so rare in this time, that she couldn't help but trust him.

"So, do you think the feeling is mutual?" Patrick sliced through her thoughts. "Do those boys trust you?"

Jenn blinked owlishly at him for a moment. She hadn't really thought about it. Cautiously, she answered, "Well, I'm not sure if it's really trust as a matter of necessity. They don't really have a choice right now, do they? But I hope they do." She smiled. And the more she thought about it, the more she wished it was true.

Patrick watched her for a moment. "You care for them," he stated.

She shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "What can I say? They grew on me." When she noticed him withdraw slightly, she hurriedly added, "Strictly as friends, mind you." That awkward teenage feeling returning.

At her reassurance, the corners of his lips curved upward. "Good." His cerulean eyes shined brightly.

The normally composed PR Rep couldn't stop herself from falling into that gaze. "Yeah," she said a little breathy, the heat of her cheeks grounded her again. Admonishing herself for such childish behaviour, she abruptly stood, clearing her throat. "So, anyway, we should probably go over those files and things to see how we can beat this creature." She jerked a thumb in the direction of the door behind her.

Nodding slight, Patrick agreed. "You're probably right. 'Sides, they're probably wondering what's taking us so long." He tried to make light of the discomfited shifts in conversation. Following suit, he also got up and headed for the adjoining room.

"Not sure I want to know what they're thinking." Jenn admitted as they walked back to the other side.

Once they entered, they automatically surveyed the room.

Dean was sitting on his bed and even from a distance you could feel the angry tension rolling off him. While Sam sat at the table near the window scanning whatever he had found online. Patrick hung in the doorway as Jenn went and sat down on the bed between the brothers.

"So, what do we do now?" She asked innocently.

"We find this bastard and kill it." Dean ground out through clenched teeth. He was still reading the case file of his assault and subsequent arrest at Becky's place.

From the other side of the room, Sam sighed. "What he means to say, is we start from square one."

"Ok, so what exactly does that mean?"

"We research. Lots and lots of research." Sam combed an unconscious hand through his hair. The frustration of the situation just as easy to read on the younger man as Dean.

"Alright, well, obviously this is all second nature to you two, but for me and Patrick we don't exactly know what we're doing here. How do you usually hunt these things down?"

"Well, once we get wind of a hunt we start reading through the news articles and police files to figure out the creature's next move." Sam explained.

Dean joined in, "The problem here is that we can't really define a next target other than ourselves. Which means we can't cut it off at the pass, so to speak. We know what it wants and we've already established that we can't set a trap for it. So we're screwed."

Jenn crossed her arms, leaned back against the headboard and regarded the older brother thoughtfully. "You know I didn't take you for a quitter, Dean."

"Who you calling a quitter?" He bit back.

"Well, you sound like you're giving up. Maybe I got that wrong but you make it sound like we're standing at a dead end and the only way out is through the Shapeshifter."

Sam chimed in, "Not a bad analogy at the moment. Although our Dad taught us that there's always a secret door. We just got to find it."

"You find one yet Sammy, cause I sure as hell haven't." Then Dean glared at Jenn adding, "But I ain't giving up yet either."

"Glad to hear it." Jenn grinned and slapped her hands on her thighs. She couldn't explain why she had egged him on, but for some reason she felt Dean needed a bit of riling. Refocusing their energy, she really wanted to figure out what her skills could do to assist the brothers. "Now, help me try to understand your process, I want to help. What do you do first when you research?"

Taking a deep breath, Dean put the folder in his hands down on the bed. "Look for patterns, it could be anything from lunar cycles, seasonal, annual, even revolving around specific dates going back years, decades."

"Well, that's going to take forever." Jenn sat back in awe. Gathering all that information, sifting through it, and formulating plans and hypotheses for every case, just sounded daunting.

"Not really," Sam continued nodding at his laptop, "You see we already have a semblance of a pattern here. All the victims involved a couple in which the male partner claims coming home to find their significant other brutalized. Next thing the guy knows is he is being put on trial for the crime. I've been looking for similar incidents happening across the country and found some."

"Really? Already?" Jenn was fascinated.

Dean's keen gaze bore into his brother. "What'd ya find, Sammy?"

"Well, it looks like similar incidents happened about 5 years ago in a place in Kentucky with a total of about 8 couples fitting the profile. Although the media blamed it on mass hysteria."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, actually. About 8 years prior to that in Seattle there were reports of about 6 couples assaulting or murdering their significant others. And about 10 years earlier 4 couples in West Virginia claimed similar circumstances."

"So in other words, this thing has been around for a long time."

Patrick smirked, "Could be even longer than that. That's 23 years ago, internet was in its infancy, you'd have to dig up local records to find anything beyond that."

"I'm surprised Dad didn't go after this thing already." Sam said absently.

"Knock it off." Dean warned. "Dad only started learning about this stuff back then. He wouldn't have known. He would have just been learning the ropes and he's just one man. He can't do every hunt that comes up out there."

Sam bristled. "You know he's not here, you don't have to keep defending him."

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are, just like you always do. Why do you do that? After everything he's done?"

"He did what he had to do after mom. You know that. Took care of us the only way he could. Taught what we needed to know to take care of ourselves."

"Yeah," Sam snorted, "like when I told him there was something in my closet and he gave me a 9 mm?"

"Exactly." Dean obviously missed (or ignored) the sarcasm seeping through his brother's tone.

"No, Dean. Don't you get it? Most parents tell their kids that there's nothing to be afraid of."

Dean fiercely countered, "That's because they don't know what's out there, we do!"

Shaking his head, Sam argued, "Sometimes the bump in the night is just a house settling or a squirrel in the attic."

"But not all the time, Sam. Dad, trained us to know the difference, how to protect ourselves."

"Yeah, he had to teach us because he was never there. He was always gone, just like _now_!" _Dammit._ Sam cringed internally. He could see how much his verbal slap had stung his brother.

Dean wiped a hand over his face. "Dad, has his reasons. He knows what he's doing." Carefully, he maneuvered himself off the bed and stood. "I'm gonna hit the head." And then he limped his way over to the bathroom.

The sight ripped Sam's heart out. He could see it wasn't just the weight of Dean's body but the weight of the words he threw at his brother that made the limp more prominent than before. He cursed his sharp tongue. How did he always manage to know exactly the right words to cut his brother down with, whether he wanted to or not? Sam ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

After Dean escaped into the bathroom, Jenn watched Sam sadly. God, these two were both heart warming and heart wrenching at the same time! In all her years she had never met a pair of siblings that cared for each other as deeply as these two. And yet at the same time, perhaps that ingrained unconditional love was also a curse. Because as deep as it ran, whenever they fought the wounds ran just as deep if not more. Quietly, she asked, "You ok?"

"Yeah, let's just focus on the case."

- S – P – N –

After he did his business, Dean stood in front of the sink washing his hands. Cupping the cool water, he splashed it over his face. The stress of this whole situation was really taking its toll.

Looking at his own reflection, Dean sighed. The abused countenance that looked back at him was a sight to see. However, it wasn't the bruises or the aches and pains of his body that struck him deep. It wasn't even the lightning storm in his knee. No, it was the turbulent seas of those hazel eyes that caught him off guard.

Because in their depths he didn't see the normally strong, confident even cocky mask he constantly kept in place. What he saw was the haunted gaze of pain and fear; of a vulnerability so fragile, he thought his own breathing might shatter it completely. And he wasn't sure he had the strength to pick up the pieces.

He had been tossed and thrown; beaten and battered; cut and burned. He had survived it all. But those kinds of wounds only went skin deep. It was the hidden wounds on his heart that left him defenseless and crying out. Those wounds took longer to heal, longer to recover from, if at all.

Most times it was like putting one of those tiny band aids on a 10 inch long - 1 inch deep slice and hoping it will staunch the flow and hold it together enough to move on. And if you managed to stop from bleeding out, you prayed to God with all your worth and begged for it never to be reopened again.

And that is exactly what Dean felt like right now. Every time it was brought up, it was like picking at that tiny band aid. Their father's absent presence was palpable to Dean. A physical wound. And each time Sam pointed it out, it hurt. God, how it hurt. Why couldn't the kid just leave it alone for now. They had so much more to worry about and yet still Sam hammered on that nail. A nail that was driving its way into Dean's very soul.

He couldn't change facts. He could only face the truth. Their father left him. And this time he did it on purpose. Dean did his best to fool himself that their father had his reasons, that it was for Dean's protection. It was just that little voice deep down that whispered dark cruelty in his ear: _You're not good enough, Dean. You never were._

And it was that voice that kept him from getting out of his car back in Stanford months earlier. The voice that told him if Sam wanted to be a part of this family all he had to do was pick up the phone. It was funny really. Silence spoke volumes. Silence fed fear and doubt. Widening the chasm between them and making it harder to find a way back over. But worse was the thought of reaching out over the abyss expecting help from the other side only to find yourself falling into never-ending nothingness.

Alone and hurting, why invite pain to be your bedfellow? The slightest possibility of Sam rejecting to help, rejecting Dean, paralyzed the older brother in his seat.

Sam wanted normal, wanted school, not hunting or death or pain or Dean. Even if Dean had managed to convince his brother to come along, it would have been short lived. Sam would return to his friends and new life and Dean would have been alone again.

His heart was already fragile in the wake of his father's disappearance, being abandoned by the only other family he had left would have shattered him completely. No, he would not let that happen. So instead of climbing out of his car, he ignited the engine and simply drove away. Better to walk away on his own terms than not walk away at all.

So he searched for their father on his own. He believed it was for the best. That this life would be too difficult with two. More expensive. More cautious. More reckless. More of everything. It's easy to think you can do things on your own, when you have no other choice. Easier to pretend you're invincible; that nothing can harm you.

But all that changed when Dean woke up in that sewer. God, it took everything he had to not curl up in his brother's arms and cry with relief, but he had managed it. And since their reunion, Dean has felt more alive and aware than he had in months. And he knew it was simply because his baby brother was there.

On the other hand, he has also felt more scared than he ever had been in his life. When Sam was in Stanford, Dean only had to watch out for himself. Course in the midst of a hunt, there were always going to be bumps and bangs. Just as long as the innocent got away, that was all Dean worried about. His own injuries were just part of the gig.

But with Sam back in the game, Dean needed to watch out for the kid. But how could he do that with a gimpy leg against an adversary scarier than anything else he's ever dealt with. This thing got inside your head, used every ounce of doubt or failure against you. Tore at your body and soul without blinking an eye. And his baby brother could be the bastard's next target.

Dean wasn't about to let that happen. Time to suck it up. Save the Dr. Ruth crap until after the sonofabitch was nothing but ash. His fears and doubts and their missing father would have to be put on hold til the job was done.

The face across from him morphed into a look of steadfast determination. With the mask back in place, Dean headed back out to join the conversation happening beyond the bathroom.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

OK, ok, I swear like 2 more chapters and things will start picking up! Just need to get a lot of info out before the chaos ensues. Believe me, I understand how you all feel. I can't even begin to tell you how many books I would read and skip over the 'boring' chapters only to read later about some important information I missed that would force me to go back and read those missing chapters just so I wouldn't be so lost.

Personally, I'm all for the angst and these chapters are torturing me just as much as you. So I told my muse to hurry up or she would be in for a world of hurt. In which she replied, 'You want to finish this fic or not?' Obviously, I replied 'Yes' emphatically. To which she answered, 'Then deal with it or I'm gone.' And considering how many times my muse does abandon me, I shut my trap. She's been testy as of late and I didn't want to press my luck any further. – sigh –

So anyway, no shout outs again, and as always thank you so much for all the beautiful people who have reviewed, faved, alerted and read this fic! Your kindness is much appreciated!

~Ari :D


	15. Psyche!

"So do all these supernatural creatures fall into a set profile?" Jenn asked trying to draw Sam back out. The room had gone deathly quiet for a few minutes. She had looked to Patrick for help but he had been focused on where Dean had disappeared to. She decided her only option was to follow Sam's lead and get back to working the case.

Sam shook his head no. "It depends on the creature. Most fall into typical categories of behavior but not all always follow the rules. Take ghosts for instance. Most hauntings are due to a spirit who could not pass on, generally because they want revenge or justice. Those are the ones that cause the most harm because after a while, their revenge or search for justice warps into something else. They start hurting people that resembled someone that hurt them progressing as far as to go after anyone. But on occasion, I have heard reports from a few hunters where the ghost was lucid and actually helped in a lot of ways to take care of loved ones or protect them. In the end, they usually decide to move on, on their own."

"What about Shapeshifters? Every hear or deal with them before?"

"Nope, this is our first. Our dad went after a Skinwalker once but we were too young to help. All I know is dad got him and we moved on." Sam raised one shoulder as a way of expressing, 'nothing new there.'

Jenn sat back for a moment, thinking things over. Their world was far more extensive than she ever imagined. It would be incredibly easy to get herself turned upside and spun around trying to grasp the scope of a Hunter's life, let alone the two she now considered friends. Instead, she focused on their common goal. Perhaps once they figured out his thoughts and motives, it would be easier to find him and stop him. "And this Shapeshifter's victims? You said he goes after couples, right?"

As Jenn thought, Sam had resumed reading the articles from the previous murders again. One hand resting on the mouse, the other resting on his thigh under the table. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, according to all the reports," he gestured to the computer, "it assumes the husband or boyfriend's appearance and then goes after the girl."

"But why?" She just couldn't fathom why the creature would be so specific. But then again with some of the cases she has been a part of, it is difficult for her to understand the reasoning of any criminal mind.

"Maybe it's a dominance thing?" Sam shrugged. "Exerting power over weaker beings."

"Don't think so." Patrick muttered, rejoining the conversation.

"Then what do you think?" Sam asked.

"Well, putting it like that makes this thing sound like a bully. And if that were the case, he would do this continuously. A constant drive to feel stronger. But you mentioned years between incidents. Which indicates to me that this is something more calculated."

"When I was down there, he talked about their feelings of betrayal." The trio turned quickly to watch Dean as he spoke. No one had heard him come out of the bathroom. "Went on about their fear and anger and how it made everything better."

"He said something like that to me in the Interrogation room too." Sam chimed in, recalling his conversation with the Shifter. "He said their pain was only a part of it, he wanted their torn emotions. And that he enjoyed breaking women."

"Intense emotions," Jenn thought out loud. "And women. Hmmm."

Dean ignored her musings for the moment and locked gazes with his brother. "I don't doubt he enjoyed it. You should have seen him down there, when he talked about what he did, how he hurt those girls, his eyes went wild. And when he…" Dean still couldn't bring himself to say what had happened down there so he left it blank for now. "Well, it was like he was getting off on what he did."

Sam's gaze softened as he looked at the older Winchester. His brother had also been this creature's victim even if he didn't fit the pattern. He knew Dean wasn't ready to talk about it yet, skirting around any details. Oh he could guess, the Shifter eluded to a number of things while skipping details too. The thought of what Dean went through made his heart clench and stomach churn. This thing liked to break women, and it was making an exception for Dean. It wasn't fair.

Piece by piece Jenn was starting to get a vague outline of this bizarre puzzle. And the picture she was starting to see was scary. "Oh my God," she whispered.

"What?" The brothers asked in unison.

Previous experiences with similar cases slowly began to shuffle around in her mind and she was starting to recognize certain signs. "It's just starting to make sense now, in a twisted sort of way."

"How so?" Sam prompted.

"Well, it's a well known fact that women are much more emotional than men, right? And you said it seems to get off on the intense emotions such as betrayal. We also know the Shifter can steal memories, but what if it's more than that. What if the Shifter is also Empathic?"

Sam's eyebrows went up in contemplation. While Dean just huffed. "Great, so he feels sorry for his victims right before he kills them." He had managed to get around his bed and sit half way down his mattress and between the two queens.

Tsking the older Winchester, Jenn countered, "Empathy is more than sympathizing with other people. It is when one person connects and identifies with another person's feelings, thoughts and experiences."

Incredulous, Dean wanted to know, "That's great and all but how exactly does this help us?"

"It helps us figure out its motivation."Jenn stated simply.

"We know its motivation; hurt and kill people." Dean practically growled. He was already weary of this conversation.

Shaking her head, Jenn moved to sit across from Dean. "No, that's just a means to an end. What it really is looking for is its next fix."

"What? You mean like a drug?" Sam inquired.

"Exactly like a drug." Shifting again so her gaze could bounce between the pair of Winchesters, Jenn continued, "Certain stimuli cause certain chemicals in the brain to be released. Dean said this thing got off on his suffering. And like all addictions I'm betting that it started off small and escalated."

Excitedly, Sam offered, "That makes sense, the frequency and number of deaths have been slowly increasing over the past two decades."

Eager to follow this train of thought, the two employees of Towsen and Towsen, worked the issue. "I'll bet this creature's chemical brain patterns are vastly different from ours. I wonder if it even feels pain?"

"It might not. Not in the way we do anyway. Any physical injury possibly is repaired when it changes. Who knows what its regenerative capabilities are?"

"Or maybe it's level of pain during transformation is so intense that it has grown accustomed to it that the creature no longer registers it as pain. Remember the saying _pain is so close to pleasure_? What if this Shifter's signals are all mixed. What if the Shifter's own endorphins no longer react to its own stimuli? And with its telepathic or empathic abilities it found a way to get a hit by drawing out the physical and emotional pain of others."

"It's possible." Sam was about to continue but was cut off.

"Again," Dean interrupted, "That's good to know but it doesn't change anything. We still have to find and kill this thing or else it's going to move cities, start all over again and tear more innocent lives apart."

Sighing, Sam had to agree. While all this was fascinating theory, it still wasn't going to help them find and kill the monster. "Dean's right. What we really need to do is figure out where this thing is hiding and how to lure it out."

"Then perhaps what we should concentrate on is what happens between all the murders? What does it do?" Jenn suggested.

With another shrug, Sam guessed, "Hibernate?"

At that, Patrick laughed. Startled by the sound the trio frowned, they had almost forgotten about the fourth person in the room, he had been so quiet. "This isn't a bear, son."

"It wouldn't be the first time something like this happened. There are plenty of supernatural creatures that go dormant between occurrences." Sam automatically defended himself.

"That may be true, kid, but I doubt that's the case here."

"Then enlighten us, Buford." Dean crossed his arms.

Patrick reached a hand up and through his hair, then scratched the back of his head. "Well, think about it for a second. If this thing hibernated, it would mean its territorial, sticks to the same hunting grounds, right? But this thing has hit places all across this country. And it's smart enough not to hit the same place twice, as far as we can tell. Which tells me that its thinking and mobile."

"He's got a point," Sam admitted, begrudgingly.

But Dean still wasn't entirely convinced. "Alright, got any more ideas?"

Figuring it was his turn to throw out some ides, the Marshal rose to the challenge. "Sure. This thing is a Shapeshifter, right? So what if it hides right out in the open?"

"You mean like a normal person?" Jenn asked.

Patrick nodded. "Maybe it finds one last person to change in to and sticks with that life until the cravings over power it and it starts killing all over again."

Dean's face reeked of disbelief. "What? So you're saying this monster goes around pretending to be normal until it needs it's next fix and then turns into a psycho killer?"

"Well, not exactly in those terms. But think about it, if we are to assume the reason it does these things is because of an addiction, then we need to look at how addicts act. And most try to pretend they are normal or that they are not addicted. Either way, they do their best to blend in with society. Maybe that's what this creature does. Blend in so well, taking on a new life and living it while the monster part of it lies dormant," Patrick glances at Sam, "hibernates if you will, while the memories and persona of the person take over that in essence it _is_ the person."

"Aw come on!" Dean burst out. "You make it sound like it doesn't want to kill, like it only does it to get its fix and really just wants to be normal."

"Now I didn't say that." Patrick gestured toward the younger man for emphasis. "It's still a killer regardless, but junkies do all sorts a shit that they wouldn't normally do to get their next hit. Take it from me, I see it all the time."

"It makes sense, Dean." Sam attempted to placate his brother's growing anger – not that he could blame Dean for being angry. The thoughts Patrick was suggesting did sound absurd.

Dean snapped, "Don't tell me you're buying this crap. This thing is just a cold-blooded monster and nothing is going to convince me otherwise."

"Dean, calm down. I'm not saying I buy it all, but certain parts make sense. Like when it goes into hiding. It would be a brilliant defense mechanism. And if this particular Shifter has been around for decades, that could be how he does it. But I also agree with you. It may be dormant for a while but only to select the next city and plan its targets before it strikes again."

"And like I said before, none of this is getting us closer to finding the Shifter. Any theories on that geniuses?"

At their collective blank stares, Dean groaned. After a moment, Patrick finally answered, "We wait."

Throwing his hands up in the air, Dean allowed his irritation to take over, "Great. Wait."

"Look, this thing is after us, right? And we know it wants to toy with us, can even contact us when it wants. But we have no means of contacting it – since it doesn't answer. Which means the ball's in his court. This is his game and we are going to have to play by his rules for now. When he's ready to play, he'll contact us. And when that happens, then we can figure out a way to stop it."

"He's right," Jenn agreed sadly. "It doesn't look like we've got much choice at the moment. We may as well take this time to get ready and prepare for when it does call."

There was really no sense in continuing the argument. So they decided to try and relax. Dean did try calling the Shifter periodically but came up with the same results; voice mail. Sam continued his internet searches but didn't find anything new. At one point they even pulled out their arsenal and cleaned the guns and dispersed the silver bullets. Later they ordered in Room service and at night they went to bed. They could only hope that tomorrow would be more productive.

- S – P – N –

The next morning, Jenn lightly knocked on the doorframe to announce her arrival into the boy's room. As she glanced around, she found Dean reading through the case files again while Sam was in the bathroom doing his morning routine. The TV was on again as well at low volume, cycling through the morning news reports.

Cautiously, she stepped inside. The night before had been full of tension and anxiety. They felt trapped, and rightly so. The shifter had them cornered and it was a waiting game.

Of all of them, it had been worse for Dean. He had always been a man of action, from a young age always moving and doing things. Now his hands were tied, forced to stand still. It went against the grain of everything he was taught. Standing still, staying put, waiting it out, often meant death.

And just to add even more indignity to their predicament, he was still not 100%. His body continued to betray him. He had woken before Sam and went through his routine, only to find that his leg was still not ready to support his full weight coupled with the lightning strikes of pain as he moved his knee.

At this point, even if they were able to find the Shifter, there wouldn't be much he could do. With nothing else in his favour he could only brood – which he decided he may as well do to the best of his ability. So he sat there re-reading all the horrible things this monster had done, letting all the pain, anger and hate fester beneath the surface.

While Dean, sat there brooding, Jenn stood uncomfortably by the door waiting to be acknowledged. Fortunately, Sam walked out a few minutes later only to stop short when he saw her. "Wow."

Feeling incredibly self-conscious now, Jenn shifted awkwardly. "Morning?"

Dean had finally glanced up at his brother's spoken surprise and regarded their female companion. Her attire was definitely more casual than before, now donning a nice but simple top and jeans. Technically, she was dressed for anything – going to a bar, hanging out or hunting down a Shapeshifter. But what caught the brothers off guard was her hair. And though he didn't know her long, the older Winchester knew that this wasn't normal.

Sam grinned and said, "You're looking refreshed."

She muttered a "Thanks."

"You know, ever since I started at Towsen and Towsen, I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair down." Sam commented. The curl that she had attempted to tame in the constant bun was cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Before, she seemed like your girl next down with round homely features. And while still not a drop dead gorgeous Model, the flowing hair thinned out her face and made her look younger.

"No, normally I don't. To be honest, it's become such a habit to put it up, that I forget to leave it down once and a while. I rarely even take it down for bed time," she confessed.

Curious, Dean asked, "So why now?"

At that she blushed and glanced back at the door. "Well, um, Patrick asked … uh… Last night as we got ready for bed, he noticed it still up and asked to see it down. Then he suggested I keep it down since I'm not officially working."

Smirking, Sam looked at his brother to find him assessing Jenn with an unreadable expression. An eyebrow quirked up as he wondered what his brother was thinking. Turning back to Jenn, he pondered aloud, "So where is he?"

"Patrick?" Jenn jerked a thumb toward the other room. "He's finishing up a shower and then we're going to go grab some breakfast. That's why I came over, I wanted get your order."

"Oh, ok. Dean?" Once again Sam looked to Dean and was surprised to find his brother had grabbed the blade from under his pillow and tossed it to the corner of the bed next to Sam. Baffled, he picked it up inquiring, "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Use it."

"Excuse me?" The pair locked gazes before Dean's drifted toward Jenn.

"Oh God," she gasped as realization sank in. Her heart started pounding and she took an automatic step backward. Was this what Patrick had warned her about just yesterday? She felt the tremble of terror slowly work through her as she eyed the brothers cautiously.

"What the hell are you talking about, Dean?" Sam demanded.

"Just a precaution, Sammy. Yesterday, we were all asleep when we got here and she's been acting strange. She was alone and anything could happen. We need to be sure."

"You – you think _I'm_ the Shifter? Are you crazy? I'm me, and always have been!" Jenn argued, but she knew deep down it was futile. They didn't believe her. Didn't trust her.

At first Sam was appalled but his brother made sense. Dean was right. There was a window of opportunity that they had overlooked. Reluctantly, his eyes fell on his frightened co-worker. "I'm sorry, Jenn. Dean's right. We need to be sure." He slowly started to advance.

Shakily, Jenn stepped back, putting as much distance between her and the knife held firmly in Sam's grasp – that is until she hit the wall behind her. Knowing there was no escape, she begged, "Please, please don't. Oh God." Sam grabbed her arm and she yelped. With tears in her eyes, she glanced up at the young man she had considered friend and made one last plea, "Please, please don't kill me." At his determined gaze, she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the blow coming.

Quickly, Sam used the sharp silver blade to make a small incision on the inside of her arm. And then he let her go. He tossed the knife back on to the bed and glared at his brother. "Satisfied?" Dean nodded. "Good, now pass me the kit so I can take care of the cut."

Jenn's eyes popped open. "That's it?" Her voice trembled.

Dean shrugged, "Yeah."

"But I thought…." A sound somewhere between a laugh, a sob and a hiccup escaped her. The adrenaline rush from the fight-or-flight response quickly drained out of her. Jenn slowly slid down the wall to the floor as Dean handed the first aid kit to Sam.

Getting to work in silence, Sam started tending the wound he had inflicted. Under his touch he could feel the tremors fading from Jenn. As he finished up, he assured her, "Don't worry it's a small cut, should be healed in no time."

"You could have warned me, you know," she whispered.

"Sorry." Sam stood and offered his hand to her, which she graciously took and got up too. "Thought you knew."

"New to all this, remember."

"Yeah, I just keep forgetting because the past few days have just felt like forever."

"Well, that I agree with." Drawing in a deep, steadying breath then releasing the last of the tension, she offered a tiny half-smile. "So, any ideas on breakfast?" Sam laughed at that.

"Bounce back pretty quick, don't you," Dean observed.

Jenn wiped away the remnants of her previous frightened state. She was feeling decidedly silly for thinking the worst of them. Doing her best to make light of the situation, she said, "Hmm, stuck with two monster hunters while a Shapeshifter is after us with intentions to kill – don't see a lot of options here. So I can either curl up in a corner and pretend this is all some wickedly horrible nightmare or I roll with the punches and hopefully survive this mess. For now, I'm still sticking with option B. I'll let you know if that changes."

Dean smirked, "That's my girl." The trio laughed. "I'll take a stack of cakes with eggs, bacon, hash browns, extra syrup and don't forget the coffee, black. Make that extra everything."

"Oh, is that all?" Smiling, she teased the older Winchester. Then she turned to Sam looking for his order.

He was about to make his request when his phone beeped with a message on the night stand. Walking over, he started, "I'll have a half stack, with eggs and sausage." He was about to tell her how he wanted his coffee when he read the name on the screen. A stone fell into the pit of his stomach.

"Dean," the room went deathly quiet, "it's the Shifter."

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Happy Easter! Well, kinda – a bit late actually. And really sorry that I'm posting so late in the day. This past weekend was great, but exhausting! Went and saw Rise Against Friday night, so I didn't have the chance to edit this chapter like I usually do. Then went to my parents Saturday to prepare for Sunday, where the whole family got together! It was a blast, but with 20+ people and 3 dogs, it was very crazy! LOL.

Anyway, I hope this chapter was a bit better than the past couple. We are heading into the good stuff very soon, so thanks for sticking with me!

Now for my Shout Outs – _Akasha_ – I promise, real soon! Thanks for reviewing! _Shawna_ – Yeah, but when doesn't Dean have the whole world on his shoulders? But he bears it so well. –sigh- Uh, yeah, anyway, CONGRATS on the new Job! That's an accomplishment nowadays. I wish you all the best! Thanks again! _Efflorescent_ – LOL, you're funny. If it helps, I _think_ my muse is Bi. ;) LOL. Honestly, I don't know. What I do know is she is a sadist that knows how to serve me. ];) lol.

As always, thank you to all you wonderfully beautiful people who have read, reviewed, faved and alerted this fic. This past week, all those comments jazzed up my muse and I really hope you like what she has in store for you all! Thanks again!

Until next week,

~Ari :D


	16. Shadow

"Gimme the phone, Sam." Dean demanded firmly, before leaning over and snatching it from his brother's hand. Quickly, he opened up the message.

'Still clueless you worthless pile of shit? Thought you'd be here by now. If you don't hurry, I'll just have to find you.'

Bastard sure knew how to push his buttons, Dean thought. He punched his number in to the phone and listened. As it rung, he muttered over and over, " Come on, come on, pick up you prick." Disappointment didn't even begin to describe the older Winchester right now. He looked at the phone in his hand furious. "You're not getting off so easy this time you son of a bitch. You're going to hear what I have to say whether you want to or not."

Dean went back into the message and hit reply, 'Bring it on you son of a bitch. I prefer a straight fight. And I'll be the one walking away.' Send.

Sam hovered next to him. "So, what did he say?"

"Wanted to taunt me cause we haven't found him yet." He didn't feel like he needed to go into exact details because he knew Sam would check the messages once he got his phone back.

"What did you say back?"

"To bring it on." Dean ignored Sam's frown when the phone beeped again.

'Think so gimpy? What about your friends, think you can protect them? How about Sammy? Bet he wants to know what we did. Maybe even join us this time.'

Dean's blood boiled, fury raging through him. This thing threatened his brother and that's just something you never did, supernatural or not. He was surprised the phone didn't break as he stabbed the keys while he typed. 'You will not put one finger on Sammy you bastard. You'll be dead before you get the chance. I'm gonna find you and kill you.'

Sam wasn't a fool, even without reading the words, he knew the Shifter said something that royally pissed his brother off. Still he had to know. "What now?"

"Don't worry about it Sammy, cause it's not going to happen."

"What's not going to happen, Dean?" Sam pressed his brother, but was once again ignored as the phone beeped.

'Doubt that. You still have to find me first. By then your friends will fall, then Sammy and last you. See you soon.'

Dean didn't bother with a response this time. He was dialing his number again. "Pick up, you Son of a Bitch! Answer!" Dean shouted. There was a click and his own voice responded, telling him to leave a message. "God damn Bastard, I'm going to kill him!" Knowing it was their only means of contacting the Shifter, Dean managed to stop himself from flinging the phone into the opposite wall. Instead he threw it down on the bed, where it bounced off and landed with a soft thud on the carpet below.

Sam quickly snatched it up and thumbed through the menus to read the messages.

A moment later, Patrick crashed through the door, hair still wet, gun in one hand and toothbrush in the other. "What the hell's happening over here?"

Jenn stepped closer to the man, answering, "The Shifter made contact again." Dean was still too busy cursing the monster out and fuming to respond and Sam was too busy reading the conversation.

"What? How?"

"Texts again."

The man's shoulder's fell. "Dammit," he hissed under his breath. Looking to Jenn, Patrick asked, "So what did he say this time?"

She shrugged, a frown on her face. "I don't know." The pair turned to the brothers.

Sam's brow was furrowed in concentration while Dean sat on his bed brooding – some of the rage fading, knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment. The heavy silence filled the room, practically crackling with anxiety. At last, Sam sliced through it, quietly asking a question that held more weight to it than anyone would care to admit. "Dean, you realize what this means, don't you?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna need more silver bullets, cause I'm not gonna stop at one."

"No, I mean that he's close. He knows what's happening here with us."

"What?" Jenn uttered in shock.

Dean focused on his brother, "How do you figure that?"

"He threatened Dean's _friends_. Multiple. He can't know that." Sam explained. "The last time I had any official contact with the Shifter was in the precinct _before_ we even found Dean. He knows that we managed to meet up with him from the Hotel Incident, but as far as we can tell there is no way he could have known Patrick is with us."

"But then how could he know about me?" The baffled Marshal asked.

Then Jenn gasped. "Oh my God, yesterday at your apartment, you said you had a headache."

"Yeah, but that was just stress."

"Can't be too sure," Dean commented. "Did it feel like a normal headache? What were you thinking about at the time?"

"Of course it was normal. Felt like every other stress headache I've ever had." Patrick was buying it. His disbelief and the fact he was suddenly back in the spotlight fueled his frustration. "As far as what I was thinking, I was worried, worried about what would happen to my baby. That I had to put my faith in strangers – kids no less –

to keep my baby safe. I didn't want to have to move her. I didn't want to have to run. And that's all I knew at the time. That I had to go, but I didn't know where or with whom."

"Is it possible the Shifter just guessed we would take Patrick with us?" Jenn asked.

"That's a big assumption. After all, it was a huge risk that we even told him the truth. And with Dean an escaped fugitive, we could have gotten him thrown in jail instead. No, he couldn't have guessed." Sam reasoned aloud.

Jenn suggested, "What about a blanket statement? Generalization."

"No," Dean answered. "This thing knows I was here alone. And anyone I might call friend isn't close enough for him to get his hands on them. He's staying close. Which means he found us somehow and knows that we're together."

Patrick threw his hands up in the air. "Well that's just great. If that's the case then that means all this cloak-and-dagger Hotel hopping isn't going to do a thing for us."

"No, it's not." Dean admitted begrudgingly.

"Hey man, it was a good idea." Offered Sam, he could read the frustration clearly in his brother's features. But Dean barely heard him, his thoughts turning inward. Sam knew that his brother would take this defeat personally, even if there was no way to anticipate it.

"Doesn't matter," Dean brushed off his brother's optimism. "The question is what are we going to do now?"

"Well I for one am going to get my car." Patrick announced. "There's no sense in leaving it and an extra set of wheels might come in handy."

"We could go get it then grab breakfast," offered Jenn.

"Let me finish up and then we'll head out." The Marshal waived his toothbrush then headed back to the other room.

"You know, I don't think it's a good idea for you guys to go right now." Sam said.

Patrick paused. "Why not? The shifter already knows where we are, if he wants to strike he can do that any time."

"True," Sam conceded, "but we don't want to invite him to attack by making things easier for him such as splitting up."

"If he's as strong and formidable as you guys make him out to be, he doesn't have to split us up. We won't be long, we'll stick together. And I already have some of those silver bullets you gave me loaded. We'll be ok." He walked back into the other room. Jenn shrugged apologetically and followed him.

Frustrated, Sam looked to Dean. "You're just going to let them go?" He asked in disbelief. Nothing. Dean didn't even look at him, his gaze still turned inward. "Dean?" Still no answer. Worry started working its way through his gut. "Dean!"

The older Winchester blinked suddenly and he cast a sideways glance at his brother. "Dude, chill. I'm good."

Relieved, Sam's previous frustration returned. "Where were you? Because I could have used a little back up just then?"

"We can't stop them, Sam. They aren't our prisoners."

"What happened to the 'protect the innocents at all costs' speech? Isn't allowing them to leave placing them in danger?"

Two sets of hazel eyes locked. Calmly, yet forcefully, the older Winchester laid it out for them, "They're in danger whether they are here or not. They were in danger the moment they met us."

Sam had never seen his brother quite like this before and he didn't know what to make of it. "Well, that's a great attitude. What's wrong with you, man? One minute, you're all Obi-Wan Kenobi – Jedi Extraordinaire, the next your Han Solo – Self-preserving smuggler. Sometimes, even I can't figure you out."

Scowling, Dean glared at his brother. "Did you ever think that if the Shifter is close maybe by letting them go, we're getting them out of harm's way? That Shifter is stalking us, and with only two of us to contend with he might actually leave them alone and come after me."

"That's a big gamble."

"What choice we got?"

Just then the other two walked back in. Jenn's lips quirked up at the corners, not quite a smile but an offering of peace. "I know you guys aren't thrilled with this idea, but it'll be ok. I've already placed the order, so as soon as we get Patrick's car, I'll run in and pick it up. Then we'll head straight back here. After we've eaten we can figure out what we're going to do to get this shifter."

"Which is about all of nothing right now," Sam groused.

Jenn gave a small nervous laugh and grinned. "Don't worry. We'll figure something out. I have faith in you guys."

"And I'll be there to look after her, so you got nothing to worry about." Patrick chimed in, he placed an arm around her and squeezed reassuringly. "Ready?" She nodded and the pair left.

"I have a bad feeling about this," uttered Sam.

Dean grumbled, "Thanks for the insight, Luke." But said nothing more. Sam ignored him and decided to go back to work.

The room plunged once more into silence. Each brother entrenched in their own thoughts.

Truth be told, Dean was worried. In fact he was practically freaking out, but big brother instincts kicked in and he remained calm for his little brother. Sam was right, this creature knew who they were with and in turn probably knew where they were and Dean still hadn't gotten even a vague hint of what the creature was doing. So as he saw it, he was useless right now.

He spent days with that monster in the tunnels. He should have better insight. The Shifter could read him as easy as the big 'E' on an eye chart at two paces and Dean had nothing.

What was worse, was that his mobility was still limited. His shoulder and ribs felt much better after a few nights rest but his knee was still giving him problems. He couldn't put his full weight on it and bending it generally left him gasping. Even if they did know where the shifter was hiding out, he couldn't sneak around let alone fight. He was a liability, a hindrance. But he couldn't give up, couldn't let them down.

Jenn had put her faith in them – in him. She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be in danger. But here she was; supporting them, encouraging them, _believing_ in them. How could he let her down?

And the Marshal, Dean had vowed to protect the man's family. Dammit, that's exactly what he would do.

After all, protecting strangers, that was easy. Jump in, save the day, and ride off into the sunset. Easy. But those he knows, those he cares about, well, there's nothing in this world he wouldn't do for them.

He glanced over to Sam and felt his heart constrict. His brother was free. Finally getting that chance at normal. He had been living it for four years. And for some reason Dean felt that time was just too short. He huffed quietly to himself at that thought. Hadn't he only had 4 years at normal? Four years before his mom was taken from him and his life changed forever. Sighing, he guessed they were even now.

If things were different. If their father hadn't drafted them in the crusade, they could have settled for normal. Lots of families had broken homes any more, what would have been one more? Just because they were a home without a mom, didn't mean they couldn't be happy. No hunting. No moving. No pain. No death. Just worrying about the mortgage, doing school, puberty, first loves, first breakups – normal.

It may not be the Winchester way of life, but something they upheld, something they cherished. I mean, why go through all the pain and heartache if there wasn't something worth fighting for? Sometimes, Dean thought his father lost sight of that, his focus solely on the thing that killed their mom. And sometimes, he felt Sam could be just as stubborn. Hunting was rough, no doubt of that, but it had purpose. There was meaning behind the madness. They saved lives. Was that such a bad way to live?

Dean didn't think so. In fact, it was what he thrived off of. Knowing that he made a difference, no matter how insignificant. That was worth the risk. Perhaps, he should rephrase that, it was worth the risk to himself.

He was a Hunter. It is what he was and always would be. Developed and harnessed from childhood, John Winchester forged his eldest son into the perfect Hunter. Trained to be lethal. Made to be resourceful. Built to endure. But most importantly, honing hunter's instincts so that movements and reaction time were all done automatically, second nature.

And it was those hunter's instincts that told Dean something was wrong. Although for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what. He just knew it was something he overlooked or perhaps underestimated. A nagging feeling in his gut that told him things were about to get very ugly, very soon.

Frustration may have been the over all theme for both brothers at the moment, but for Sam it was more than that. It had been a part of his life so long he sometimes forgot what it was like without it. From their messed up childhood to CPS to annoying teachers to constant moves to their father's crusade, Sam often found himself frustrated with someone or something.

And while their situation was frustrating enough, it was his brother that bothered him the most now. He just didn't understand what was going through the man's head. Why couldn't Dean just let him in – share?

Although, he should have known, should have seen this coming. As soon as things got too nasty, too much to handle Dean slowly imploded. Which was ironic because in the same situations, Sam always exploded in a huge fiery blaze.

Since their reunion, Sam had been worried about his brother. What the shifter said to him that first day, only intensified his concern. It had been eating away at him. Sam tried and tried to fight it, knowing by his brother's actions it was not something he was ready to discuss, if ever. But Sam was determined to find out the truth. He had to know.

Oh Sam kept telling himself, that he had to know so he could help his brother deal with whatever happened in the sewers. And while that was partially true, the truth is, he just wanted to know. Although his reasoning was more complex than that. For one, he had to know what had happened to his brother while he was off living the apple-pie- life. Another, and more consequential, was simply the fact he needed to know if his childhood hero was capable of being a victim too? Logically he knew it was possible, but reality was always harsher.

If the creature had lied, used words to cause fear and doubt, Sam's world would remain the same. But if he hadn't, well then he wasn't sure what exactly would happen.

If only Dean would just talk to him, it would make things so much easier for them both. But he didn't. He kept it bottled up, locked away from the world. Big brother, protecting baby Sammy's innocence. Bullshit. And that also pissed Sam off.

Because if Dean continued to keep things from Sammy, that meant only one thing. Dean still saw him as a snot-nosed little kid that needed protecting. For Sam, that was just crap. He was an adult now. Living alone for 4 years without help or aid from both his father and brother and he was fine. In fact, he was more than fine. He had a life and a job and a future. Something that neither John nor Dean seemed concerned about.

Oh, John always professed that once the thing that killed mom was dealt with, they could go back to being normal, but Sam knew it was a lie. Dean did too, he knew, but his older brother seemed to follow along blindly. God, it was so frustrating. Alone, together, it didn't matter the hierarchy still existed.

Dad had his plan, worked out his goals and made his decisions. Obviously, without consulting his sons (like usual) because in the wake of John's determination he forgot about his shadow and somehow left it behind. And that shadow was desperately trying to find a person to stand behind again – find a reason to exist. After all, how can a shadow exist without something to cast it.

And his brother was floundering. Sam could see that now. Dean needed people – his family – more than anything else. Yet, here he was alone.

Well, Sam wasn't going to let that continue. He had already made up his mind to have Dean come back with him to Stanford. He just had to convince Dean that it was the right choice. Their dad be damned. He can go off and hunt whatever the hell he wanted. Avenge the dead with more death. In the meantime, Sam was going to make sure the living stuck together. Sam had touched normal again and Dean could too.

His brother deserved better than this. Not their father's shadow. Not a soldier. Not some shifter's plaything.

The shifter. The chaos it brought, the suffering it caused. Still causing. Those messages designed specifically to torment Dean. Toying with them for it's own pleasure. Dean. Silence.

He couldn't take it anymore – the silence. At this point, he had read the same sentence a hundred times over on the computer screen. His thoughts unable to focus on anything else except the one person he had come to find. He had found him but not any answers. So it was now or never. He shattered the quiet with the timber of his voice. "So when are we going to do this?"

Perplexed by the unexpected question, Dean's brow furrowed. "What?"

Abandoning his research, Sam turned to direct his full attention to the older man. "Talk. When are we going to talk about this?"

"Already told you, there's nothing to talk about," Dean groaned.

"Bullshit," Sam barked. His tone harsher than he had intended but his anger would not be subdued. They were alone now and he was going to get answers. "What happened, Dean? In the sewers."

"Dude, you saw what happened when you found me."

"No, I didn't. I saw the aftermath, _not_ what happened – how they were caused. Your knee. And those bruises on your back, they didn't look right."

Scowling, Dean slammed down his protective wall. "I'm not going to do this, Sam."

"Do what? Talk to me?"

"No. I'm not going to give you the play-by-play. You don't need to know." Dean held fast to his conviction, he didn't want his brother to know, and he really didn't want to remember either.

But Sam was just as determined to find out. "Why? Because I'm your innocent baby brother? In case you haven't noticed, Dean, I'm an adult now. Taken care of myself for years. I don't need your protection anymore."

"Who says I'm protecting you?" Dean spat back. "Just let it go, Sam. Get back to figuring out a way to find the bastard and take it out." He tried to read the file in his hand again but Sam wasn't about to be put off.

Refusing to be dismissed, Sam virtually hissed. "You know, you're an ass. I'm trying to help you and-"

"Don't! Don't you try and pawn this off as some way to help me. I know you Sam. Since you were a little kid, you always asked questions. Always needed to know everything. It's one of the reasons you and dad always fought. He only gave us info on a need to know basis and that always rubbed you wrong."

Sam didn't have a retort. What Dean said was true for the most part, but he did want to help his brother too.

Suddenly feeling very tired, Dean sighed. He could see the conflict in his brother's expression. Why did they have to keep fighting about this? Why couldn't he just let this go? Oh, he could guess. After all, he was just as effected by the texts about an hour ago. The weariness in his tone evident. "This shifter's a bastard. Don't fall for his taunts. And don't tell me that this isn't because of his texts because we both know that's a lie."

"Fine. I'll admit that that is part of the reason, but I do want to help you and I can't do that if you block me," Sam practically pleaded. He had sensed the shift in his brother, and decided to pull back his own anger. "If you won't tell me details can you at least be honest with me. When I first spoke to him, he eluded to a few things, are they true?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't know what he said."

Sam watched the man who had raised him and how uncomfortable he was. The subject that Sam wanted to address was not going to be easy. He had debated on whether or not he should water it down or be blunt. In the end, he decided that sugarcoating things would not work. That by doing so would only give Dean the excuse to sidestep the issue. A direct question would yield better results. Calmly, he spoke, "I told him to fuck himself and he said he did."

"Oh come on, Sammy, don't let this son of a bitch string you along." Dean wiped at his face. "He's just trying to get under your skin."

What he said next, Sam knew could possibly wound his brother further. However, it would also tell him whether or not there was any validity in the Shifter's words. "He told me about touching your hip. Is it true?"

At that Dean paled and swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. "I told you, he reads minds. He could have pulled that from my memories too. It doesn't mean anything."

"Then why can't you give me a straight answer?"

"Because I shouldn't have to! This is ridiculous." Dean's fist slammed down on the bed by his knee, jostling it and causing a pulse of pain to flow up his leg, grimacing.

Sam nodded. Dean had danced around the issue like a whirling dervish. And if he knew his brother, Dean could keep dancing when everyone else had passed out from exhaustion. But the dance itself told him one thing. Something had happened in those sewers, Sam just didn't know how much or how far it went.

He decided on taking a different route to get his brother to talk, at least about some of it anyway. "You said you tried to escape and that he punished you."

Again, Dean let out a long exhausted breath, "Why are you doing this to yourself? You can't change it. And it wasn't your fault. Just let it go."

"I can't, Dean. Between you and that shifter… I just need to know." Sam had to wonder at his brother's perception. Even he had not been able to pin down that underlying emotion that had been nagging at him since their reunion. But the moment Dean named it, Sam could recognize it for what it truly was; guilt. He had left his family. And while he was off enjoying life, his family had kept on fighting the good fight. Often winning but at a price. Could he have prevented some of those horrible moments had he been there? Sam would never know. Not unless he could convince his brother to open up. So he pressed on, "Please tell me."

"Not much to tell, Sammy, really." Dean could feel his resolve weakening. Simply too tired to hold out against the constant questioning.

Sam pulled out all the stops. His soft concerned eyes, peered into the hazel depths of his older brother. It was the expression that he knew his brother could not resist. Coupled with his most innocence voice, Dean didn't stand a chance. "Then there shouldn't be any reason you can't tell me. How did you get down there?"

Dean could see it building, knew what was coming. But that knowledge didn't help him fight against it. So in the end, the puppy-eyes of his baby brother conquered – as usual. He took a deep breath and began, "After I talked to that Becky girl about her brother, I went to his house and figured out he was using the sewers. I went down, found the skins – found its lair with its collection of stuff. I wasn't paying attention, snuck right up behind me. When we realized who we were, we started fighting. Threw a couple of punches, tried to kick him when I heard this pop. Next thing I know my leg's on fire and I'm on the ground. Bastard just knocked me out after that. Woke up cuffed to that pipe."

"Dammit, Dean." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You probably tore the ligament in your knee. And you call that a rookie mistake?"

"I let him sneak up on me," Dean ground out. To him it was obvious. Such a mistake cost lives. Why couldn't Sam see that?

"There's no way you could have known he would come back then," Sam reasoned, "and there were a lot of drips and creaks in those tunnels that echoed. It would have been difficult to figure out if someone was coming. If it weren't in jail at the time, it could have snuck up on me."

Smirking, Dean allowed himself to take some pleasure in the open opportunity, "Well, you have been out of the game for a while."

Sam ignored the joke, focusing on the issue at hand. "Stop making excuses for me. Even if I wasn't, I still might have made the same mistake. Don't you see Dean, if it's not _my_ fault, then it's not _yours_ either. That's why hunting alone was always a bad idea."

"Not like I had a choice," Dean mumbled under his breath, but Sam still caught it. Then he continued in his deep growl, "And Dad did it for years, stills doing it."

"Yeah, and we saw the results often enough when dad would come home late and bloody. How many wounds have you tended? How many stitches have you sewn? I bet you've taken care of more injuries than most doctors."

"Doesn't matter. I did what I had to." Dean shrugged, dismissing his efforts. He felt exhaustion creeping steadily through his body.

"I know. But you can't always be the one who has to take care of everything. I can help. Please let me." Another hint thrown towards his brother, letting him know that they were once again a team. Utilizing his advantage, Sam asked another question, "What happened after you tried to escape?"

Memory sparked at the prompting. And before Dean could stamp it out, he found himself engulfed in the flames. "By then, the shifter had already turned in to me. And when he found me near the doorway he hauled me back. Started telling me about all the killings he had done. Beat me. Dislocated my shoulder. Nothing I couldn't handle really, except…" his voice broke. "It wasn't just the beating. He… dammit there's no better way to say it, he raped my mind. Blew past every wall I ever built and just ripped the memories out." A tear slid down his sullen face.

"I…He found every fear, mistake, doubt I ever had and threw them back in my face. Every single dark moment he brought back to life. Stuff I didn't even remember he dug up and shoved back down my throat. And I – I tried, but I couldn't stop him. The more I fought the more he seemed to like it. But I couldn't let it win, could I?" The slightest hint of a smirk quirked the corner of his mouth.

Sam wanted to laugh, offer some reprieve from the weight of his ordeal, but he couldn't. Instead the stinging of his eyes answered as its tears slowly trailed down his cheeks. "Jesus," hissed past clenched teeth. His heart torn in two – anger and sorrow battling for dominance. And if he knew anything about his brother, he knew that one of the key things that drove Dean, and was enhanced by their father's training regime, was a need to win – overcome the odds.

Of course Dean would fight. It was all he knew how to do. And fighting meant the creature got more than it bargained for. A meal that didn't know how to quit – a virtual smorgasbord of never-ending pain. If their hypothesis were true, it bode ill for his brother. The women the creature assaulted were highly emotional, but they weren't trained to endure and probably wore out too quickly for the Shifter to satisfy itself.

In that, his brother was unique on all fronts. As a kid, he has used his mother as a model when taking care of Sammy and John. Probably an idealized version of the vague memories he possessed. He became mother and brother at once. His emotions ran deep. But their dad was there to toughen them up. And after losing one parent, Dean was desperate to make his father proud. So he endured. Strong in both emotion and endurance, the shifter had found a unique prize. No wonder the shifter wanted his brother so badly.

Clearing his throat, Dean continued, "He used you. He used Dad. How you both left. Couldn't… sorry." His throat constricted and he couldn't continue. His mouth turned in to a thin, grim line and the muscle next to his nose twitched slightly as he tried to reel in his emotions.

Sam whispered his brother's name softly. Dean was right. Knowing didn't do anything. In fact, it probably made it worse because there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. There were no words he could say to ease his brother's pain or erase the memories.

A sardonic puff of air rattled out of Dean's chest. "Would have preferred the beatings to his voice," he admitted.

The Shifter had robbed his brother of more things than Sam could ever fathom down in that sewer. The details no longer mattered. The deed was done and there was nothing they could do about it. Except extract revenge. But even that wasn't enough. Because no matter what they did to the Shifter it would never equal the suffering it caused. But still, Sam could try.

"A chain."

Startled out of his dark thoughts, Sam had no idea what his brother was telling him. "What?"

"The bruises. He used a chain."

"My God." Sam covered his eyes with his hands. His whole body began to tremble with the rage he felt for this monster. "I'm going to rip his heart out with my bare hands."

"Already told ya, Sammy. Get in line." Dean's voice was strained and exhausted, and there was also a hint of humor in it. He was groveling his way back to big brother mode and eased the blow of his confessions. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

Sam simply scoffed at his brother, unable to believe how his brother still managed to protect and comfort him despite what had transpired. It really was too much. He couldn't stay seated. Quickly, he got to his feet and started pacing the small room. His hands knotted in his hair, he practically growled as he moved.

It took him several minutes to settle back into a semblance of calm. In the end, he walked over to where he could sit on his bed just opposite his brother. He didn't know what to say or what to do, but felt compelled to say something, "Dean, I…."

Dean opened his mouth to tell his baby brother it was going to be ok, but a sound interrupted him. A ringing sound. They knew it wasn't Sam's cell phone nor was it the hotel room line. Curious the pair searched for the sound.

In the piled heap of clothes Dean had worn yesterday, Dean found a phone in his pocket. At first, he didn't recognize it and then suddenly it hit him. This was Jenn's cell, the one he borrowed when they went to meet Patrick. He had forgotten to give it back to her. He was about to let it go to voicemail when he looked at the caller id. It didn't have a name, but the number he recognized immediately.

His heart plummeted into his stomach.

Cautiously, he flicked it opened and answered. "Hello?"

"Hope you boys weren't hard set on that breakfast." It was Jenn's voice, although the contemptuous lilt to her tone turned it into a mockery. Dean knew exactly who he was talking to. Hatred filled his heart.

"Where are they?"

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

I am so sorry to be posting this so late, but at least it's still Monday, mostly. Anyway, this chapter ended up being very long and very difficult to edit. So please forgive any mistakes. Still not entirely sure how it turned out, so you'll have to tell me.

Well, I am pretty tired. Had a long day today and will have just as long a day tomorrow, so I'm calling this early and heading to bed.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. No shout outs today. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, faving and alerting this fic! You are awesome!

Thank you,

~Ari :D


	17. Bait and Switch

"Tell me where they are, you son of a bitch." Dean practically spat venom across the phone.

"Now Dean, why would I want to do that? We've been having so much fun." Shifter-Jenn teased.

Sam stood anxiously by as he watched his brother talk to the Shifter. "You bastard. What have you done with them?"

"Just a little bit of this and a little bit of that," the normally controlled girl flippantly answered. "We're only getting started."

"You let them go."

"Not likely."

Dean looked away from his sibling and growled lowly, "I thought you wanted me. Let them go."

There was a moment's pause, almost as if Shifter-Jenn were leaning forward. Her voice also just above a whisper, she inquired, "Are you jealous, Dean-o? Afraid you're missing out on all the fun?"

"In your dreams asshole." He bit back.

"Mmmm, and what lovely dreams they are," Shifter-Jenn's tone was a cross between pleasure and longing, as if relishing the last piece of the most delectable chocolate. "I miss you Dean, time to come back."

He could hear the pout in her voice. But Dean wasn't fooled, he knew what the person on the other end of the line truly was. And he would no longer be its victim. "If I come back, you die."

Sighing, Shifter-Jenn seemed nonplussed. "Fair enough. But if you don't come back, _she_ dies." A muffled scream in the background followed her threat, setting every one of his nerves on edge.

"Stop it," he hissed. "Just leave her alone."

"Why should I?"

"Cause it's me you want. Let her go and you can have me." Automatically, Dean bargained for their freedom without really thinking it through. At his brother's sharp gasp, Dean cringed, but he could not back down now that the offer was made.

"Dean!" Stunned, Sam couldn't believe his ears. Had they not discussed this type of sacrifice over and over again, and thought they had agreed not to do it anymore, from either side. And suddenly, his brother was playing the hero again! Dean sub sequentially ignored his protest though while he continued to negotiate with the shifter.

"You hear me, you son of a bitch? You let Jenn and Patrick walk away right now, and you can have me."

"Dean!"

From the Shifter's perspective it was all too easy. Victory was laid out on a silver platter, and all it had to do was taste. But even that wasn't enough. With a seductive lilt, she asked, "What about little Sammy? Is it an eye for an eye or do I have to settle for a 2 for 1 special?"

Hazel eyes darted toward Sam for an instant before turning away. "Just one, you dick. Now where are you?"

Light laughter filled his ear. "You still haven't figured it out? Getting slow, there kiddo," she admonished.

"Enough with the horse shit and tell me so we can get this over with." Dean barked into the phone.

Again, she sighed, as if dealing with a petulant child. "But you know where I am. The one place you knew you had to come back to, the one place you knew I would be waiting. If you don't hurry, looks like you might be implicated in another murder, quite easily I might add. So you coming or what?" Another muffled cry echoed over the line.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do from here, Dean relented, "I'll be there, you prick."

"Good. See you soon, Dean-o." And click. Negotiations were over. Now it was time to pay up. Dean closed the phone and slowly slid it into his pocket.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Sam blew up. He couldn't help it. He was livid! "Handing yourself over like that? What, you want to go for a second round with that creature, once wasn't enough?" His tall frame trembled with anger. His fingers raking along his scalp.

But Dean dismissed it. "Can it, Sam. I'm not handing myself over. We're going to kill it and get Jenn and Patrick out of there."

"Oh right, because he won't see that one coming a mile away."

"Doesn't matter if he can see it, he can only be one of us at a single moment, and right now he's Jenn. Which means that _we_ won't get tapped. All we have to do is go in grab her and Pat, kill the bastard and then go."

"Sounds great," Sam said sarcastically. "Only one problem, we don't know where he is, unless he gave you an address and directions."

"Not exactly. But I know where he is now." Dean was reaching under his pillow to extract his bowie.

Well, that was good news at least. But Sam still wasn't happy. "Perfect, care to share?"

"The sewers, Sam."

"And how do you figure that?"

"He said it was the one place I would have to go back, that he would be waiting at. In his lair he kept all the personal effects of his victims." When Sam waited expectantly for him to continue, Dean sighed, "My necklace, it's where he kept it. And he knew I wouldn't leave without it."

Sam stood there for a minute, mulling over his brother's reasoning. It made sense. That necklace was a present he had given Dean when they were kids and he rarely ever saw his brother without it. It was probably one of the only presents Dean had been given that wasn't stolen or some practical hunting gear. It was Dean's most treasured possession next to the Impala. He wouldn't leave without it.

Sam began collecting his own gear, calming just a little more. He shared his thoughts as he prepared. "Ok, if it's in the sewers, how do you want to do this?"

"I'll go in first, keep it distracted, you come around through a different tunnel and take it out." Dean got off his bed and started hobbling around the room to collect a bag and his gear and finish getting ready. It was slow and tedious, but he was determined.

Watching his brother, Sam could see that Dean wasn't really putting any pressure on his bad leg, a split second, just enough time to reposition his other leg. He shook his head and told his brother, "You can't go down into those sewers Dean. You can barely maneuver around this room, how are you going to handle those tunnels? Even if you put on the Immobilizer-"

"I can't wear that thing. I need to be able to move freely. I'll be fine." As fate tended to enjoy proving situations such as these to the contrary, she did not disappoint again. Dean went to sit back down on his bed when his knee bumped the corner, igniting a burst of fiery pain. Automatically, he yelped and collapsed on to the bed. Beads of sweat sprang from his brow as he grit his teeth and worked through the agony.

Instantly, Sam was by his side. "Hey, man. It's ok. You're all right," he soothed. When he noticed Dean start to relax he made a decision. "You're in no condition to do anything right now. And we can't risk you damaging that knee further. I'm going in and taking the Shifter out – alone."

Dean's eyes popped open. "You can't. This is mine."

"It _was_ yours, now it's mine. Hey, as you said, this is what dad trained us for." Sam turned and collected his bag of goodies, taking some small pleasure in throwing back the same words Dean used before. "And both you and dad have been hunting alone for years, right? So this can be my solo, to get back in the game."

"Exactly, Sam." Dean argued, anxious and worried that his brother was about to do something stupid. "You haven't done this in a while, dad and I have. You can't go alone."

"And you will never make it in those tunnels. We don't have a choice." Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala from the nightstand and turned back to glare down at his guardian. "I'm going."

Dean tried get up to block him but was easily sidestepped. "Sam, don't you do this." He reached out, but his baby brother's long strides put him out of arm's length too quickly.

At the door, Sam paused and looked back at his big bro. "Let me take care of this one for you. I'll be back soon." And with that, Sam left. He could hear Dean calling for him, but he would not turn around. He had to hurry.

For a few minutes, Dean stayed exactly where he was. He had called for Sam and then nothing. Waiting for a response, he just had to be sure Sam was really gone. Another minute passed. Slowly, carefully, Dean collected himself and sat on the bed properly. He glanced at the door sadly and whispered, "Sorry, Sammy."

He took out Jenn's cell again and called Patrick. The Shifter had not really made any mention of him, which probably meant, that he didn't have him. It was a gamble Dean had to take. It rang and rang and just when he thought it would go to voice mail he hear a click.

No greeting had come but Dean could tell someone was on the other end groaning. After some agonizing seconds the rough voice of the Marshal filtered through. "'lo?"

"Patrick, hey, you ok? Where are you?"

"Dean? What the…?" And then memory suddenly hit the man. Dean could hear rustling and jerky movements. "Jenn? Jenn! The Shifter must have jumped me. We just got dropped off at the mall and were in the car park. Was probably hiding between some cars when we got here."

"You ok?" Dean heard a small grunt and took it for a yes. "Think you can drive?"

"Yeah," Patrick cleared his throat, "just a nasty knock. Don't think it's a concussion."

Dean nodded approvingly. "Good, get your ass back to the hotel. We've got a shifter to kill."

"What about Jenn, she's not here?"

"Shifter has her and we're going to rescue her. Now hurry up so we can go."

Dean was about to hang up when the Marshal started to ask, "Just tell me where to meet you and I'll-"

"No," he answered hastily, "you have to come here and pick me up."

"What's wrong with your car?" Patrick's tone was a mixture of confusion and frustration.

Dean grumbled, "Sam has it."

Now, genuinely curious, Patrick wondered, "He's not with you?"

"No, he's taking care of something else." Dean didn't want to reveal too much over the phone. His Hunter's instincts were kicking back in and decided to keep his thoughts close to his chest. "Just going to be me and you."

"You think we can take him?"

"Don't worry, we got this covered. Now hurry, we're losing time." This time Dean ended the call. Now he just had to wait.

- S – P – N -

It didn't take long before Patrick arrived back at the Hotel and Dean was ready and waiting for him. He had barely stepped through the door when Dean stood and started to head out. "Let's go." The younger man, growled as he gimped past.

"What? Do you think I could at least take care of this first?" He motioned to the gash on the side of his head where blood had seeped from the head wound and caked in his hair.

Dean glared at him for a moment before simply stating. "No. Now let's go." Then he continued to limp down the hall stiffly. For the moment, Dean had decided to don the Immobilizer, but he was ready to discard it at a moment's notice if necessary.

With Shoulders slumped and shaking his head, Patrick just watched the younger man for a second before realizing he was being left behind. Quickly, he went to catch up. "So where are we going?"

"The motel I was at before the Shifter grabbed me." Dean answered calmly.

"You sure he's gonna be there?"

"Oh yeah. He called." They had reached the Charger. Patrick climbed into the driver's seat while Dean slid into the passenger's side. His leg protested, but he pushed the pain back. He had a job to do. Using it as motivation he ordered, "Now just shut up and drive. We have to hurry."

And just like that the two were off.

- S – P – N –

Sam parked the Impala down an adjacent alley to the sewer in which the three of them escaped only a few days previous. He tucked the Taurus handgun he had borrowed in the back of his jeans and grabbed the rest of the arsenal he packed, then got out.

Cautiously, he made his way back to the sewer entrance they used and pulled the cover off. Taking one last look around, Sam began the climb down.

His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to break free. He hadn't been on a solo hunt since he was 17. And even then both Dad and Dean were waiting and ready to back him up should the need arise. But not now. It was just this him this time. Sink or Swim. Fight or flight. Either way it must be a victory because his big brother was counting on him.

As soon as his feet touched ground, he pulled the Taurus back out along with a quick-touch flashlight and slowly made his way back to the creature's lair. His body tensed at every drip of water and each scurry of rodent feet. His nerves were so frayed he hoped he didn't get trigger happy and shoot the wrong thing.

The trek seemed much faster this time than previous and before he realized it, he was at the entrance to the lair. Still cautious, he peeked around the corner. Hazel eyes scanned the area as quickly and efficiently as possible. No sign of the Shifter anywhere. His gaze then drifted to where he had found his brother – nothing.

He took a measured step inside and started searching further. Jenn and Patrick were supposed to be down here somewhere. Something seemed off to Sam, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Just then he heard a rustle of heavy, stiff material come from a cluster of pipes along the wall behind him. Abruptly turning, he made his way over, gun held ready. The lump hadn't moved again but Sam refused to let his guard down. One hand hesitantly reached out and tugged on a fold, pulling it free. The tarp slide off the figure and collected oddly on the floor.

- S – P – N –

Patrick parked his Charger just outside the parking lot to the run down motel Dean had stayed at briefly upon his arrival to St. Louis. He shut the car off and turned to his companion. "So now what?"

From their position, Dean could just see the door to his room. Everything seemed quiet, but he expected that. Without looked back at the Marshal, he stated, "You stay here and call for back up if things go south. I'm going in and getting Jenn out. Once she's safe, then I'll deal with the Shifter."

"You're going in alone? Are you serious?" Incredulous, Patrick didn't think this could be the great plan Dean was referring to.

"Deadly," Dean said, and looked it. His face now the stoic, determined mask of a hunter. He was ready and willing to end this. He stuck out a hand toward the Marshal and demanded, "Now give me your keys."

Startled, Patrick asked, "What? Why?"

"You are only leaving when Jenn is safe. Otherwise, you stay here." Dean instructed, hand still outstretched and waiting.

"I wouldn't leave," the older man denied. "In fact, I'd rather just go with you."

Dean shook his head firmly. "Just give me the keys."

"I can help you. You aren't in any shape to fight this thing." The hunter remained impassive. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Sit on my ass when I could be helping you?" Again nothing. "Well, if you don't want my help, what about Jenn? I could get her away while you face off." This time, he did get a response – kinda. Dean's glare sharpened and his hand twitched – non-verbally indicating his desire for said keys. The Marshal was obviously not getting anywhere. So he did the only thing he could at the moment. Patrick handed them over. "Whatever."

Dean grinned, tucking the keys into his jacket pocket. Then he grabbed a large silver blade – sheathed – and tucked it into the back of his pants. Next, he checked the magazine for his Colt 1911, and decided to leave the rest of his arsenal there. After all, there really wasn't much else he really needed. The bag only had a few extra precautionary items like a few more knives, a canteen of Holy Water and his sawed off, still packed with rock salt. He knew they weren't needed for this hunt but he felt naked without them when hunting.

Dean opened the door and managed to climb out without causing his leg too much pain. The journey from Charger to motel door took way longer than he wanted and left him exhausted. Still, he pressed on.

When he got to the door, he reached out and took the knob in his hand. The doors in this place had a simple lock, which was like any normal home and could be manually locked from the inside by turning the lock. In other words, it didn't lock automatically when closed. So much for high-quality security.

Gingerly, he began turning the knob and found the door unlocked. So the Shifter was expecting him. Dean felt obliged to comply, although he didn't think he had much to worry about yet. He felt the door give slightly as the latch released. Gently, he eased it open.

At a third of the way, Dean slipped inside the room, albeit a bit awkwardly with his Immobilizer still on. For the most part the room was like he left it. Some of his research scattered around on the bed and weapons on the table. Just past the table, strapped to the rickety chair, was Jenn.

It looked like the Shifter had decided to have some fun with her after all. Her clothes were ripped and sliced along with numerous cuts on her skin. He could also see a number of bruises starting to form and there was blood everywhere. Her hair was messy and clumped in fistfuls around her face. She had also been gagged, which would explain the muffled cry when he was talking to the Shifter.

Lulled forward, Jenn slowly lifted her head when she heard the door open. Tears lined her face. She didn't know if the person she was looking at was friend or foe.

Dean held up a finger to his lips and shushed her. Even with his hindered leg, he moved stealthily through the room and checked the bathroom. Once he found it empty, he relaxed and hastily hobbled over to Jenn, kicking out his leg so he could crouch down in front of her.

He didn't untie her. Instead, he pulled out the blade from his back and held it up for her to see. Her eyes locked on to it and fear filled her gaze.

"Hey, just need to check, ok?" Dean said softly, drawing her gaze back to him.

For a moment neither moved. Jenn assessed the man across from her and realized what he was really asking. She gave a hesitant nod.

Dean placed the blade on her arm and made a small cut. Nothing happened. He sheathed the blade and removed her gag. He then whipped out a smaller pocket knife to cut through the ropes tying her down.

Jenn swallowed some fresh air. When her lungs and mouth were satisfied with the regained freedom, she started, "Dean… Patrick…"

- S – P – N –

"Patrick!" Sam gasped. The man was obviously unconscious and looking worse for wear. The only thing Patrick was wearing was his boxers. Sam could see a number of cuts scabbed over and lots of bruising. Ducking down, he tapped the man's cheek. "Hey." Now that he was closer, he caught a whiff of a strong musky scent – stronger than he expected for only a few hours of captivity. "Come on man."

Wincing, Patrick began to stir. Cerulean eyes fluttered open, slowly focusing on the man before him and filling with fear. He pushed back, trying to get away, but made little progress due to the wall behind him. He moaned into the gag that was tightly wrapped around, cutting into the corners of his mouth.

Anxiously, Sam tried to calm the frightened man. "Hey, it's ok, it's just me. I'm gonna get you outta here. Just let me…" He assessed the man's binds. Reaching around Patrick's head, he untied the gag.

Patrick smacked his lips together working to get moisture back in his mouth. Licking his lips, he croaked out. "Are you for real?"

"Yeah," Sam replied while he retrieved his lock pick set and went to work on the cuffs. "Do you know where the Shifter is?"

"You mean that monster? It… I saw it – _change_. Ripped its skin off. Became me. Wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes."

"We know. Do you know where it is now?"

Patrick shook his head. The click of the lock on the handcuffs sounded his freedom. He sighed in relief rubbing at his wrists. "No. Said something about a trap though."

"Figured that. It sure did seem to be playing us." Sam grabbed his things and lofted the Taurus again, his eyes darting around for any further activity. Noticing nothing amiss, he said over his shoulder, "Let's get you out of here and back to the Hotel. We need to talk to Dean." He held out a hand and pulled the older man up to his feet.

It was odd to think of standing as a relief, but is exactly what Patrick felt like, so glad to be up and moving again. Glancing down at his shabby appearance, he knew that he shouldn't go out in public like this. Glancing around he saw the lump of clothes the Shifter had collected. It was then something that his rescuer said caught his attention. "Dean? As in Winchester?" Patrick pulled out some clothes from the pile of stuff along the wall and hastily threw them on.

Sam looked at the man funny. "Yeah. You ok? Head alright?"

"Just a nasty headache and a lump on the back of my head," he answered quickly, ready to be out of the rat infested room.

Not quite convinced, Sam suggested, "We'll check you over once we get back to my brother. Do you know if Jenn is down here with you?"

"No, no one else. Haven't even seen that creature for a while." They started making their way out. Sam at point. "I thought I was gonna die down here. How did you find me anyway?"

Making good progress on their trek, Sam explained, "Shifter called a little while after you guys left. Told Dean where he was, but I'm starting to wonder if this wasn't just some wild goose chase." He was thinking out loud again, trying to figure out why this had not gone the way he thought it would.

"Either way, thank god for that. I'll be glad to get out of here. If I never see another sewer, it will be too soon." Patrick really didn't need an explanation, he was just happy to be free again.

"I hear that. Well, come on Patrick. Let's go." A sudden hand on his arm stopped their progress. Curious, Sam looked back at a confused Marshal.

"How do you know my name?" The man asked.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

You heard it again, didn't you? That 'trill-thunk' before commercial breaks. Ya know ya did! lol. Anyway, another good sized chapter for you all. Although this one moved quickly! Seemed like it was over before you got started. Well, it did for me.

And I know some of you saw this coming. For those who did, congrats, and those that didn't I hope it was a good surprise. I'll probably comment more on this in the next few chapters, in the meantime, enjoy!

Well, this fic has officially become my Second best, both in length and reviews. Thank you all for your wonderful support! This fic would be nothing without you! You know how to make a muse happy. ;) As for length, I'm not quite done yet and I'm already over 120pgs draft. Although it still won't beat out my Star Wars epic, which is fine by me! Hehe.

Just a quick shout out to my girl _Shawna_ – Well, I know a lot of people wanted to know just like Sam, so he had to share a little, didn't he? Thanks again for sticking with me! -hugs!-

I hope all those mom's out there had an awesome day yesterday! I know I did. Another great day at Disney- went horseback riding in the morning, did a few rides at the parks, ate some good sushi, and saw Davy Jones twice! An all-round fun day. Life is a precious thing, cherish it. And as Davy says, Sing like no one's listening, Dance like no one's watching, Love like you've never been hurt before and when life gets too hard to stand, kneel. Wishing you all a happy day, every day!

As always, Thanks for the reads, reviews, faves and alerts! You guys rock! And I will try and post earlier next Monday, the weekends have been full the past few and my editing hasn't been done as soon as I would like it to. But that's life. Here's hoping for next week. See y'all then!

~Ari :D

p.s. Please forgive any formatting, ff.n is not letting me load the chapter so I went to a previous chapter and pasted the new chap into it, but it messed up the formatting. When I can load this properly, I will repost if necessary. Thanks!


	18. Frantic Energy

And just like that, the world shattered around them. Sam's stomach flipped as oddities turned into curiosities and suspicions to harsh realizations. Swallowing to get some moisture in his suddenly dry throat, Sam managed to croak out, "How long have you been down here?"

Noting the sudden change in pallor of his rescuer, Patrick answered cautiously, "Morning after that thing turned into me and escaped."

"So the meeting we had that morning…?"

"The meeting with that lawyer person? Got jumped before that, been down here since then."

"Then that means… we… never…" Sam fought to stay up, his knees weakening ready to fall out from under him. His mind racing over the events of the past few days. Things he didn't think about before suddenly spoke a different truth. Little nuances that felt off but couldn't be placed until now.

Even the argument that morning with his brother had been strange. Dean seemed to be quieter and in a way he practically let Sam go. Because deep down, Sam knew a bum leg wouldn't stop his brother from finishing a hunt. The perfect timing of that 'accidental' bump. The way he showed his pain. He never showed pain unless he had a reason.

The full weight of that reason hit him like a ton of bricks. Desperately, Sam grabbed for the wall. The call. The location. It wasn't the Shifter that sent him on this wild goose chase, it was his stubborn, over-protective jerk of a brother. Which could only mean one thing – Dean knew and he went after the Shifter – alone.

And just like that, Sam was running. He didn't care if Patrick was following or not. Frantic to get out and back to the hotel. Hoping he was wrong but knowing he wasn't. He could only pray he would get there in time. "Dean."

- S – P – N –

"Dean… Patrick… he's the shifter." Jenn gasped out.

"I know."

Startled by the admission, Jenn looked at her rescuer. "How?"

"Not important right now. First, we have to get you out." Dean finished cutting through the ropes. Awkwardly, he got back to his feet.

Jenn stood shakily herself. "What are we going to do? He could be back any minute."

"He's back now. I left him in the car." He hobbled over to the front wall next to the window. Very carefully he used the tip of his Colt 1911 to push back the curtains and look toward the aforementioned vehicle. Just as he suspected, it was empty.

"What? You caught him then? Sam's guarding him, right?" She asked hopefully.

"No."

"No?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"I sent Sam to the sewer and out of harm's way, which is about what I'm going to do with you." He glanced at her and then went back to scanning their surroundings.

Flabbergasted, Jenn stepped closer to him, a mix of emotions stirred at the implications of his comment. "What? You can't seriously be thinking of taking this bastard out alone, can you?"

Dean put on his best shit-eating grin. "It's what I do, sweetheart."

"You're suicidal. You can't take him out on your own. You're in no conditi-"

"Don't start all that crap. I know what I'm doing. Now take these." He thrust the keys he took from Patrick into her hands. "Take the car and go back to the hotel. Pack up. Wait for Sam. And as soon as he's there, get the hell outta here. Take him back to Stanford."

"NO, I'm not leaving. And neither will Sam," she argued.

"Then make him leave!" Dean ordered. His steely gaze fell on her and she stilled. Abruptly, the hazel gems softened as he looked at her. A muddle of emotions made it difficult for her to read them properly. A flash of sorrow but also compassion and desperation. She could feel her chest tighten as he spoke, "Look, this thing is after _me._ And if he catches you again or Sam, he is going to use you to get to me. It will be safer for both of you if you just leave. Let me take care of this."

"But…" tears flowed from her chocolate eyes as she stared at him.

"Please," he begged.

She searched his eyes. There was a hint of fury in them now along with a steadfast determination. It was amazing how these two brothers took everything she knew, everything she believed in and understood and twisted it on its head. Her judgment impaired when it came these two. And she found herself nodding. "Fine. I'll go, but we're not going to leave. We'll be waiting for you."

Dean didn't argue, he know it was the best compromise he would get out of her. He lead her to the door and pressed his back into the inside wall. Holding his gun at ready, he told her, "I'll cover you. I won't move until you're gone."

Again, she nodded. Jenn took a deep breath to steady herself and wiped the tears from her face. Once she was ready, she locked eyes with Dean and gave a curt nod. He responded with a bob of his head and grabbed the knob. Carefully, he opened the door wide enough for her to slip through. Just before she hurried out, she whispered, "Be careful." And then she ran.

- S – P – N –

Sam's heart thundered in his chest. When he reached the ladder, he was gasping for air. But he didn't care and he most definitely couldn't stop now. Jamming the Taurus into the back of his jeans, Sam scurried up the ladder. Patrick right on his heels.

Breaking free of the sewer, Sam bolted for the Impala. From behind him, Patrick managed to keep up. Calling after the younger man, the Marshal was trying to make sense of what was happening. "Hey! Hey kid! Wait for me."

But Sam was on a mission and he wasn't about to stop. Quickly, he unlocked the Impala and threw the bag inside. He fell into the seat and started the engine. Patrick rounded the front of the car and pounded on the door to be let in. Sam hit the lock. As soon as the man slipped inside, he gunned the engine, forcing the door closed.

"Dammit, kid!" the Marshal cursed beside him. "You want to ease up there a little?"

"No." Sam growled.

"Fine. Care to explain what the hell is going on and who the hell you are?"

"Sam Winchester. That meeting you had with Dean's lawyer, that was for me and a colleague, Jenn. She's the one who set the appointment. And while you were in the sewer, we met with U.S. Marshal Patrick Georgens. He told us about how the Shapeshifter posing as Dean escaped. Then we took him along with us because of the danger he was in from the Shifter." The last comment so bitter the words virtually shattered the interior of the car.

Patrick allowed his mind to wrap itself around this new information. After a few minutes of silence, he asked, "Shapeshifter? Is that what you call that monster?"

"Yeah," Sam ground out, "and right now he's holding Jenn captive. Took her this morning after you two went to get breakfast."

"Breakfast sounds good right about now," Patrick muttered. He hadn't eaten in over a day and he was starving.

Sam shot him a sideways glance and then focused on the road again. "Yeah, well eat later. Right now we are going back to the hotel."

"Hotel? What for?"

A familiar mixture of anger and worry washed over Sam, wondering why this situation happened so often. "My dumbass brother. In the hope that he's still there, but I doubt it."

Curious now, Patrick questioned, "Think the Shifter got him?" It would make sense. The creature had already pretended to be the young man whom allegedly committed all those murders. Although after everything he had seen, the Marshal was starting to suspect that the real man believed to be in his charge was innocent.

"Not exactly," Sam stated, "He must have figured it out and decided to go after it by himself."

Patrick frowned. He didn't discount his abilities, after all the training they receive, and this thing took him out without batting an eye. Why anyone would want to confront this thing on purpose, he couldn't fathom. "That thing is a nasty piece of work, how the hell is he going to take it out?"

"Silver bullet to the heart," Sam informed the older man.

Startled by the matter-of-fact answer, he couldn't curb his curiosity, "Will that kill it?"

"Should."

"How do you know that?"

Sam sighed. He was getting really tired of the twenty question routine. "Look, we can go over all this again later. All you need to know right now is that this is what we do, my brother and I. We're Hunters. We take out all sorts of supernatural shit all the time."

"You mean like this Shapeshifter?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause in the conversation while Patrick digested everything. His mind was racing - filing, sorting, calculating all the bits and pieces. "A silver bullet, eh? That the only way to take it out?"

"Pretty much. It has a weakness against any silver, but putting some in his heart will kill it."

In a job where the circumstances can change in a heartbeat, the U.S. Marshal had to rely on little information and a whole lot of instinct at times. While he still had questions and doubts, he also knew that time was of the essence, based on how frantic his rescuer was. So it was no surprise to him when he decided, "Got an extra gun and bullets?"

Sam dared another glance at his passenger. Patrick looked dead serious about his question. It amazed Sam that even only meeting for the first time only a few minutes ago, the man seemed to take stock of the situation and make the transition from victim to vigilante so easily. Smirking, he replied, "Yeah."

"Good. I'd appreciate it. Got a little payback of my own I'd like to dish out." Patrick offered Sam a grin of his own. "This thing go any faster?"

"Hell yeah." Sam put his foot to the floor.

- S – P – N –

Driving like a bat out of hell, Jenn gunned the engine as well, kicking the tail end out as she spun around and made her way back to the hotel. She rode the gas hard, desperate to get back and find Sam.

Meanwhile, Dean watched her peel out and smirked. "That's it. Get outta here. Get Sammy."

Once the Charger was out of eyeshot, Dean relaxed marginally. Glancing around, he muttered to himself. "Alright, you bastard, it's just you and me now. Come get me."

- S – P – N –

The Impala skidded to a halt. It hadn't even finished rattling when the two passengers burst from the car and dashed into the Hotel. As soon as they got to their room, Sam began pounding the door and calling for his brother. When nothing happened a minute later, Sam immediately jimmied the door open and ran inside. "Dean!" he called, moving from bathroom to attached room and back again. Still nothing.

Patrick stood near the entrance, watching the frantic young man run around like a chicken with its head cut off. When Sam finished his search, he came back into the room, hands fisted in his unruly hair and spun slowly in a circle as if that would make his brother materialize out of nowhere. "So, he's gone."

Sam glared at the man. Regaining some of his sense, he announced, "We have to find him." 

"Obviously. Any ideas where he is?"

"No." And how Sam hated admitting that, because that simple fact left him feeling helpless and scared. He had promised his big brother that he would handle things this time and he allowed himself to be played and put on the bench again. Damned if he would be sidelined! "Doesn't matter, we have to look."

"What? Search the entire city? Are you mad?" Patrick balked incredulously. "That thing could have killed your brother and your friend long before we even get close to finding it. You need to stop for a moment and think things through."

"No time."

"Exactly, no time. Which means wandering aimlessly will only waste more." The Marshal hammered at the folly of such a pointless plan. The younger man's emotions were in chaos and so were his thoughts. He had to refocus that energy. "Think, kid. That thing mentioned a trap. Something about a hotel and having to go back. Would that be here?"

"Doubt it. We were here all night. He could have even taken us in our sleep, but he didn't. He wanted us separated. Which means the trap was set for Dean only." Sam ran the facts through his head over and over. "A hotel?" Realization almost blindsided him. "Damn it. The hotel Dean was at before we got here. That's got to be where they are!"

A breakthrough. Patrick grinned, "Great, then let's go." But the smirk soon faded as he stared at Sam's 'deer-caught-in-headlights expression.

"Can't. He never told me where that was."

- S – P – N –

Dean stood in the middle of the room, his Colt held tightly in his hand by his side. He wasn't sure what the Shifter's next move was, so he had to wait. Glancing toward the bathroom again, he was still muttering. "Come on, you cold hearted bastard. I'm right here. Right where you want me. It's your move now."

Just then there was pounding on the door. "Dean? You in there?"

He would recognize that voice anywhere. Smirking, he worked his way back to the door, listening as his brother continued. "Let me in man. Come on, Dean."

With gun at his shoulder, Dean carefully opened the door. His brother immediately stumbled inside. "What are you doing here, Sammy?" He closed the door behind him.

"Trying to help you," Sam answered. Then he added with a hint of annoyance, "Nice try by the way, but you're not going to shake me that easy."

Dean's gun was still poised for action while he regarded the taller man, but he didn't respond.

Sam glared back at his brother, anxious, "So where's the shifter? What's the plan?"

"Like I would tell you." The Colt 1911 now pointed at Sam's chest.

Laughing, the youngest Winchester attempted to lighten the mood. "Come on, Dean, stop playing games. Tell me what the plan is so we can take it out."

Dean offered one slow shake of his head, eyes hard. "Shouldn't have to tell you, 'm sure you can just take it from my mind. But wait, you're in the wrong suit for that ain'tcha?"

"Dean…" Sam took a step forward but stopped the moment he heard the click of the gun being cocked. Knowing that the game was up, Sam's eyes darkened and a grin twisted his features. "What gave me a away?"

Shrugging, Dean responded, "Pick a mistake. You've made a few."

Shifter-Sam sized up his prey, the grin broadening. "You knew in the car, didn't you? That's why you asked for the keys."

"The car ride over only verified my suspicions. Started figuring it out at the hotel."

"So, what happened on the way over that confirmed it?"

"The mistake you made twice." The shifter's expression was easy to read while in Sam's visage – a look of 'you're going to have to give me a little more than that' on his face. Sighing, Dean elaborated, "You drove over here without asking me for directions. And I never told Sammy either. They wouldn't have known unless I told them or somehow read my thoughts. But you're good at that aren't you?"

"Dean," Shifter-Sam chuckled, "I'm impressed, but it still won't save you or them."

"Oh, yeah, and why not?"

"Because even though you know it's me, you still can't bring yourself to shoot Sammy. Now if I was Jenn or Patrick, no problem. Shoot first, ask questions later. And if I was you, well, we both know you hate yourself so much, that pulling the trigger would almost be therapeutic, wouldn't it? But not, Sammy. Not your innocent, baby brother. You're supposed to protect him, right?" Shifter-Sam took a step forward and Dean took one back.

With a mocking tone, he punctuated every step with a familiar order, "Look out for your brother, Dean. Take care of Sammy. You're in charge, keep an eye on Sam." The slow yet deliberate advancement made the Hunter retreat.

"It was always about Sam, wasn't it? Dad always put you in charge even though you were just a brat yourself. And on some of those early hunts, he would bring back a present for his baby boy, and what did you get? A pat on the back? A job well done? And on the good days, a tool for the job. But even that stopped all too quickly."

Dean backed into the wall between the door and the windows. His hand still out-stretched ready to fire, keeping Sam just beyond his reach. His palm had become sweaty, making his grip slippery. He tried to pull the trigger, but the shifter was right. No matter what lay beneath the skin all he could see was Sammy.

"You know Dad always liked me better. So here's your chance to get revenge on both of us. Shoot me and you'll be free. Show your dad that he didn't have to go hunting for a monster, when he created one right here." His eyes held Dean's, challenging the hunter to fire. "Go ahead, do it. Shoot!"

The stand-off was tense. A shaky hand clasped the gun repeatedly, but nothing. Dean's whole body trembled with rage and pain and so many other emotions. He could end it all right here, and yet he still couldn't pull that trigger. So in the end, he clicked on the safety and let the gun drop.

In Sam's voice he heard a single word, "Pathetic," before stars exploded across his vision. He was kissing the carpet. Groaning, he tried to figure out how he had gotten to the floor when another blow crashed into his face. Shaken, his head had trouble keeping up with the assault. And then suddenly, he was screaming. It felt like his leg was being ripped apart at the knee.

When the white haze of agony began to subside, Dean realized he was back in the rickety chair he had released Jenn from only a short while ago. The Shifter was strapping him down, murmuring as he worked, "Let's get you comfy, shall we. We have a lot to do. First a little research before we have some fun. Then it's only a matter of time before the party really starts."

Dean's head spun. Darkness encroached upon his vision. He couldn't keep it away any longer and blissful blackness descended.

- S – P – N –

Jenn pulled up to the hotel. Her heart nearly jumped out of her ribcage in relief when she saw the Impala. She parked the Charger and darted inside, as best she could. The trek to the room was a blur. All the aches and pains from the Shifter's abuse were catching up with her quickly. She had to hurry.

As soon as she stepped into the hallway, she began an unconscious mantra of Sam's name, repeating it over and over again. A bulwark of strength and determination, in just saying his name. Desperate to reach him, but unable to move any faster.

Sam and Patrick stood in the room staring at each other dumbfounded. It was in that moment of silence that Sam first thought he heard his name. It took him a moment to figure out what was happening, when Jenn staggered into the room. Both men were shocked to see the woman. Her clothes tattered and blood all over.

As Jenn fell through the door, her eyes instantly went to Sam. Relief flooded her. And then she saw the man behind him. There was a strange mix of emotions that raced through her in that instant. Fear and elation. A choked sob escaped her. "Sam." He took a step toward her, but hesitated when she cringed. "Knife."

Curious, he regarded her for a moment until it dawned on him. He pulled the blade out from his bag and held it up. Jenn put out her arm. Sam was about to advance but felt a firm hand restraining him. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't you think she's had enough?" Patrick bellowed in disbelief.

"All of us, Sam." Jenn said.

Sam nodded, pulling out of Patrick's grip and took hold of Jenn's arm. "It's the only way we can be sure none of us is the Shifter." He cut Jenn's arm for the third time.

"What the hell are you talking about? This is insane."

"Remember in the car. I told you it reacts to Silver. This is a silver knife." He held it up for the man to see. "It will tell us if one of us is the shifter." Pulling up his own sleeve, Sam pulled the blade along his skin. Then he looked pointedly at the Marshal. "You're turn."

Involuntarily, the man took a step back. "You can't be serious. I'm not that creature."

"Fine, then this shouldn't really hurt. It's the only way."

Patrick's startled gaze bounced between the two strangers standing in front of the doorway – his only avenue of escape, should he choose it. How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? That thing in the sewer. Two people willing to cut themselves on purpose. It was crazy! And yet, there was no explanation for what he had seen. Nothing fit into the box of normal. Even the psychotic criminals he usually dealt with didn't hold a candle to what had happened over the past few days. If this was all a hoax, it was a damn good one. And if not?

He had to find out the truth. And his gut was practically screaming that the only way he was going to find it was through these strangers. What choice did he have? Take the easy way out or find justice? Harnessing his resolve, he held out his arm. Sam quickly made the cut and nodded his affirmation when nothing else happened.

"If we are all here, then that means the Shifter is out there with Dean." Sam determined.

Jenn grabbed his arm. "Dean knew it was Patrick. Said they drove to the hotel together. But he was gone when I left. I don't know where he is."

Sam spun on his co-worker and grabbed her arms. "Where, Jenn? Where are they?" He could feel a headache coming on.

"Chain of Rocks Inn," she answered. "But Dean, he said you had to leave. That we should go back to Stanford." Sam was already shaking his head no, when she half-smiled. "I'll take you to the Inn."

Grinning in return, Sam could have hugged her right then. "Alright, let's go-"

The headache flared into a burning wall of agony, plowing through his brain, scorching its way across the landscape of his memories. His face scrunched up, his teeth grinding together, his hands digging into his scalp. It felt like his head was about to explode and he screamed.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Ah-ha! Another cliffie! This one is for all those Sammy fans out there. I hope you enjoyed it.

Oh and by-the-by, the gun Sammy is using is a Taurus Hand gun, which is what I found on one website as his weapon during season 2, which apparently Dean used a few times during season 1. Since it seems like it would be the weapon he would inherit from Dean so-to-speak, I thought it would be his choice here. Also, I did look for some motels in the St. Louis area and since I don't remember what they used in the show, I chose to use "Chain of Rocks Inn" and while there is a "Chain of Rocks Hotel," I did change the name slightly because I have no idea if it is set up as described. Phew, more disclaimer mumbo-jumbo taken care of. ;)

Again I find my muse floundering and am hoping that the full moon tomorrow will work its charms and inspire her. Wish me luck. No Shout Outs today, but as always thank you all for reading, reviewing, faveing and alerting this fic! Each and every response really means a lot to me. I love them all!

~Ari :D


	19. Dark Revelations

"Sam!" Jenn cried as Sam crashed to his knees.

But Sam didn't hear her. Could hear nothing beyond the roar of agony coursing through his head.

The pain raged. And yet, it had leveled off enough he could start to feel other sensations. There was a presence there, riding torment's coattails. A presence that poked and prodded his brain, sifting through dreams, memories and nightmares. Picking out moments – groping them – fondling them – taking pleasure.

Moments that were once pure, now tainted and stained by its touch. His brother was right. This was more than an invasion. This was a flat out mind fuck. A raping of his heart and soul.

The shifter was stealing his memories in the most obtrusive and harmful way possible. Worse, was the knowledge it had happened to his brother more than once. _Dean_.

- S – P – N –

He wasn't out long. Minutes, in fact. From what Dean could tell, the last bond had just been secured. Once again, he found himself trapped and at the mercy of this beast.

"Wake up big brother." Shifter-Sam taunted. "It's time to play."

Groggily, Dean lifted his head and shot the object of his hatred a death glare. "Go ahead, asshole, do your worst."

With a maliciously smug expression that was so alien to his brother's features, Shifter-Sam leaned forward, placing his hands on Dean's arms so that their faces were mere inches apart. "Careful, what you wish for, brother. You forget, just because baby brother isn't here, doesn't mean I can't get him."

If looks could kill the Shifter would undoubtedly be ash by now. "You lay one finger on him and I swear, you'll wish you were never born."

"Tut-tut, Dean-o. Who said anything about touching… yet." Shifter-Sam stood up, closing his eyes. Two fingers pressed against his temple as he began tapping into original Sam's mind.

At first, the grimace on his face still held a hint of that mocking pride the Shifter had with his abilities. Furiously, Dean struggled, anxious to stop the perversion he knew was happening. But he was unable to break the bonds that held him. Minutes seemed like hours. And then suddenly, there was a twitch at the corner of the Shifter's eye. The grimace turned into a frown then a growl of rage.

Uncertain of what exactly was happening, Dean could only hope that somehow Sammy was fighting back.

- S – P – N –

This horrid violation infuriated Sam. His ire raised exponentially, knowing his brother had also been treated so callously on numerous occasions. And that didn't sit well with Sam.

He focused all that loathing on the presence invading his mind. Pushed past the pain and thrust it back on itself. He shoved all that hurt and anger back at the creature. And he could feel it falter under its weight. Confused at being countered.

But it recovered quickly. Anger flared and it fought back.

Still clutching his head, Sam squeezed his eyes tighter. His upper lip twitched and snarled with the force of his fury. The monster had toyed with them long enough and Sam would stand for no more. So he pushed back with all his might.

The Shifter sought purchase – anything to anchor himself against the storm. Reaching out he clutched randomly at a memory and brushed against something more sinister and foul than either could fathom. Yet, even as light as the touch had been, it was still enough to ignite an explosion, thrusting both party's out.

Sam cried out and fell back. Jenn immediately at his side, calling his name.

- S – P – N –

Shifter-Sam howled in pain then staggered toward the bed. He braced himself against the stiff mattress, gasping. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose.

From his seat, Dean uttered a hushed, "Atta boy, Sammy."

Minutes passed as the Shifter recovered. And then softly at first, it began to chuckle. Gradually, it grew into a hysterical laugh and finally a boisterous guffaw.

The sight sent shivers down Dean's spine. Worried now, the older Winchester wondered what the hell was going on. He didn't have to wait long.

A few moments later, the Shifter calmed enough speak. "Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean. Doomed Dean." A residual laugh escaped him.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

Standing up to the full intimidating height of his visage, the Shifter tilted his head in Dean's direction. Wiping the stray tears from his eyes, Shifter-Sam regarded his prey. "You never stood a chance. Doomed from the start."

Dean's heart was racing. He could feel his stomach flipping inside him. Growling, he demanded, "What did you do to Sammy?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I did nothing more than I normally do." At the relief evident in Dean's eyes, he couldn't help but add, "Course I didn't have to."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Shifter-Sam walked casually over to Dean, towering over his prisoner. "Oh, Dean. Poor Dean. Doomed Dean. All your life you have only had one true goal in your life. Protect little Sammy at all costs. And you tried. You did everything for that little brat and then some. But it was all for naught. You were doomed from the start." He leaned back over Dean and locked gazes with those defiant hazel gems.

"You're lying." Dean ground out.

"Why would I lie when the truth is so much better?" Dean just glared back at him. Shifter-Sam could not stop himself from laughing. "Come on, Dean think about it. I take pride in my work. I know what's mine and what isn't. And that was definitely not me. Looks like someone jumped the gun on all of us. You failed. You're brother has already been claimed. And it's not you."

"Bull. If that's true then tell me who."

"Sorry, can't. All I can tell you is that a seed of evil has been planted in your baby brother and it's only a matter of time before it's unleashed. God only knows what will happen then."

"You're full of shit. You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Honestly, Dean, I really don't give a shit if you believe me or not. Regardless of the fact it's there, doesn't even matter. Because if I have my way, you both will be stuck with me for a very long time, or you'll be dead. Either way, we'll probably never find out. In the meantime, Jenn's probably caught up with little bro and after what just happened, I'm certain they are on their way here. Time's short and we need to prepare a fitting welcome for them."

- S – P – N –

Dark spots danced across his vision, but Sam refused to give in. He could feel the thick warm liquid trailing from his nose. His head throbbed. He felt used and dirty. But most of all pissed beyond comprehension.

From where he collapsed on the floor, Sam struggled to sit up. Jenn and Patrick were couched on either side and helped him up.

Concerned, Jenn asked, "Sam, you ok?"

He shook out the last remnants of fog from his mind. He had made a small victory in booting the Shifter out, but this battle was far from over. "Yeah. We got to go." Sam declared as he forced himself to stand on unsteady feet.

"You think you're up for it?"

"I'll be fine. It's Dean I'm worried about. The Shifter has him."

"What? How do you know?"

"He was tapping into my mind. If what we gathered is correct, he can only do that when he's being me. And based upon his MO, to heighten the experience, he would use my image to torture my brother. He would only do that if Dean was caught. Given his already questionable health, Dean couldn't have stood up to him for long."

"I agree. Let's go." Jenn spun around and swooned. She would have fallen if not for Patrick, who was right behind her. She tried to shrug him off, but he held firm.

"Jenn?" Now it was Sam's turn to be concerned.

"I'm alright," she insisted, her voice pinched and strained. One hand moved down pressing into her side and she groaned.

For the first time, Sam really looked at the cuts, tears and stains on her clothes. The section right under her hand was moist and sticky and dark red. "You're bleeding."

Hooded eyes, glanced up at him, a tiny smirk on her lips. "Hey, I'm a woman, it happens," she joked. At his awkward blush, she cleared her throat and reassured him. "Sorry, but I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound. I'll live."

"Let me see." Gently, Sam peeled her hand away and then lifted her soaked shirt. "Dammit." The flesh wound turned out to be a deep gash in her side. Blood was still oozing from it. "We have to get you to the hospital."

"Not yet. Job's not finished, right?" Jenn countered softly.

Sam glanced up at her and frowned. No way was he going to let anyone follow Dean's example. He had to focus on his brother now, and dividing his attention would be too much. "For you it is. I'll drop you off. You can give me directions on the way." Standing, he quickly went to collect their First Aid kit and rummage through it.

"I'm coming with you." The ever determined PR rep was not ready to be sidelined.

"You can't." Sam held out a pack of gauze for her. "You could pass out from the blood loss and I can't afford to split my attention between you, Dean _and_ the Shifter."

"Let me take her." Patrick volunteered. "'Sides, you're probably the most capable of all of us right now to stop this thing. I'll get her to ER, you get your brother and kill this sonofabitch." The bruises on his face only served to back his claim as he smirked at the younger man.

"Right. Jenn, directions." Quickly, she told him how to get to the Chain of Rocks Inn and the room number. He thanked her and headed for the door.

Just before he left, Jenn called, "Sam, be careful."

"Get a few licks in for me, kid." Patrick added.

"Yes sir." Sam gave them a curt nod and was gone.

- S – P – N –

Sam found the place fairly easy. Just as Jenn's directions had described. It looked like a typical Winchester residence – a ratty motel dive with probably about a negative five star rating.

Years of training kicked in. He moved quietly along the edge of the building to Dean's room. He wrapped his hand around the knob and very, very slowly turned. After a moment, he felt the latch give. With as little pressure as possible, he pushed the door open. As soon as it was wide enough for him to fit, he slipped inside.

He pulled the Taurus out and scoped the room. In the middle, tied to a chair, was his unconscious brother. He looked even worse than before. New bruises had formed and new cuts made. He hurried over and crouched down. "Hey. Dean. Wake up."

Drifting out of the darkness, Dean began to stir. "Sammy?" he squeaked past swollen lips.

"Yeah, it's me. Oh God, Dean." Sam had tallied up the damage he could see and it wasn't looking good. "You need a hospital." Sam started cutting Dean free.

"Hurry, before he gets back."

"How long ago did he leave?"

Dean shook his head. "Don't know. Passed out 'fore then."

The last rope fell. "Come on. Let's get you outta here."

"Gimme a sec." Dean already sounded winded. "Check outside."

Sam nodded and went to the front window to peek through the curtains. There was nothing out there except the sporadic car that passed by. "It's clear still. I'm going to take you to the hospital and then come back to deal with the Shifter."

"I don't think that's necessary."

"Wh-" Sam began. Turning, he looked at his brother and froze. Dean was standing. More than that, he was walking toward Sam. There was something about it that bothered him. No limp. Synapses fired, piecing together what he saw and what he knew. In an instant, he was bringing up his gun, ready to fire. But it was too late.

In a blur, Dean was there, knocking the gun from his hand. A powerful backhand sent him in to the embrace of oblivion.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, I hope everyone had a nice Memorial Day. I would like to Thank all those who have served or are serving in our military. Your dedication and sacrifice is a testament to the foundation our nation was built on. God Speed.

Now, I do apologize profusely for not posting last week. My muse has begun looking for new inspiration on other potential projects and no longer focuses on this story. I am desperately trying to reel her back in but am finding it quite difficult. I am hoping some kind words of encouragement will bring her back long enough to finish this story. Otherwise, at this point, nothing will be posted next week either. *weep* That would make me very upset - let alone you guys. Wish me luck, because I really, really don't want to miss another week. And we are so close to an end! I can just feel it!

Well, having said that, I hope you enjoyed this. No shout outs for today. But please be kind and review. It really does help pump up our creative fuel. And as always, thank you all for reading, alerting, faving and reviewing this fic! Much love for you all!

~Ari :D


	20. Save Sammy

The cold splash of water thrust Sam back to reality.

"Rise and shine, Sammy-ma-boy. Don't want to be late for class, do ya?" The taunting voice of his brother called.

And for the briefest moment, Sam almost thought they were kids in the midst of another prank war. That is until the pain and memories started flooding back. His eyes snapped open to see a very healthy looking Dean Winchester standing over him. The Shifter.

"Where is he?" Sam ground out through clenched teeth.

"Lighten up, Sammy." Shifter-Dean tossed the empty glass on the bed next to them. "No need to hurry this along. We'll be spending a lot of quality time together. But first things first," leaning in close, he demanded, "where's your little friends?"

"Safe from you." Sam's upper lip twitched in defiance.

"You think so, do you? Well, we'll see about that." Shifter-Dean answered coolly, a confident smirk on his face. "In the mean time, care to elaborate? _Where_ are your little friends?"

"Not here."

"I can see that, but still not the answer I'm looking for. Again, _Where_ are they?" What little patience the creature had was quickly starting to deteriorate.

On the other hand, Sam woke up irritated and lacking patience. And he most certainly wasn't about to give the shifter anything it wanted at the moment. "What difference does it make?"

"Oh, it makes a lot of difference to me." Shifter-Dean turned away from Sam and went over to the dresser along the wall. Sam's gaze followed the monster and noticed an array of weaponry laid out on the counter. Knives, hammers, wrenches and stuff he didn't even recognize. The creature's hand hovered over the instruments as he continued smoothly, "Now, would you like to answer the question, or do I need to employ your brother's help in getting it from you."

"You leave him alone!" Sam was ready to face whatever the bastard wanted to dish out. But he wasn't prepared to watch it happen to his brother. Dean had already suffered enough, was still suffering by this sonofabitch's hands, Sam refused to allow it to continue. He would do what he had to.

Glancing over his shoulder, Shifter-Dean prompted, "Then tell me what I want to know!" He picked up a rusty looking chain from the heap and rattled it toward Sam.

Through his eyes, Sam bore all his anger and hatred into the abomination that dared resemble his brother. The sight and sound of that aged chain brought him back to when they had found Dean in the sewers and the strange bruises. He realized this could be the very thing that had left those marks. And he could not put his brother through that pain again. His gaze never wavered as he answered. "Fine, I left them at the Hotel. They're probably on their way to ER now."

"That wasn't so hard was it?" Shifter-Dean mocked. He threw the chain back onto the counter. Then the creature turned away, placing one hand on his hip while the other wiped over his chin. Sam knew that pose. Recognized it as Dean's contemplative stance, when he was weighing options and calculating outcomes. "That still doesn't leave us with as much time as I would have liked," he said at last.

Confused now, Sam asked, "What?"

Shifter-Dean regarded his captive thoughtfully. "You know, you lot have really surprised me. Not only were you actually able to get close on some of those theories you were throwing around, but I never expected you to find the real Marshal again until it was too late. Guess we can thank _Dean_ for that happy turn of events." There was a gleam in the Shifter's eye that held a bit of sarcasm and admiration in it – an odd combination at that.

Sam leaned back in the chair he had unwittingly released the Shifter from earlier and currently found himself strapped to. He knew a taunt when he heard one. The Shifter wanted to get a rise out of Sam for Dean's little ruse. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "That's something between me and my brother." Playing it up, he went on, "Still, there was always a chance we would have gone back to the sewers and found him anyway."

"True, but it was easy to steer you guys in another direction. Of course now that Pat's free again, that means he could call in the cavalry once he's taken care of the girl."

_Dammit!_ Sam hadn't thought of that. They had an opportunity to do that when they got back to the Hotel. Although, there was also the problem of explaining the situation to the cops and somehow making it believable. Along with the added complication that they couldn't just shoot to kill, considering the Shifter could be anyone – and thus put his brother, as well as anyone else for that matter, in additional danger. However, it was still an option. Patrick _could_ call it in. And right now, Sam saw it as an opportunity to shift the balance of control. Smirking, he said, "What makes you think we haven't already done that?"

"Don't lie to me, Sam. You can't pull the wool over my eyes on this one. I've been in all your heads and I know how you all think. As soon as that Marshal looks at that PR bitch, he's going to make sure she's ok first before calling this in. 'Sides, he's going to come to the same conclusions that I'm sure you just did. He can call them in, but the only thing they'll be thinking about is getting your brother no matter the cost. And for someone who's been in the force as long as he has, he still believes in justice. He won't risk an innocent, including your felon brother. Because as far as he's concerned, all those charges could have been trumped up cause of me."

Surprisingly, the Shifter's irritated explanation was decidedly good news for Sam. It meant that the Marshal had a sound head on his shoulders coupled with a sense of justice and compassion. And it always surprised him to find one amongst the lawmen. There have been too many in their past who were clueless or didn't want to believe what was right in front of them. It was so much easier to take things at face value than work to find the truth – no matter how ugly it might be. He was pulled from his musing as the Shifter continued.

"Still, there is a chance he could call them in and that's something I have to consider. Which means play time for today will have to be cut short. Course, that doesn't mean we can't have some fun first." Shifter-Dean's expression darkened. "Where to begin?" The creature inched closer as he spoke, "Physical torture is all well and good, but that as they say, only goes skin deep. I want more. I want deeper."

Sam huffed, "You sound like a bad porn."

"Your slut of a brother would know. He would bang anything with a skirt. On the other hand, banging him might cost you a little extra." His brother's likeness straddled the chair and sat in Sam's lap; arms resting on Sam's shoulders.

Instinctively, Sam pressed himself as far back as he could. His upper lip trembled as he hissed, "Go to hell, you bastard."

An obscene laugh broke the tension – or was that intensified it? "Too late Sammy. Where do you think I've been these past few months - make that years? My own private hell. You left me alone with Dad. It would have been more humane just to kill me." Shifter-Dean sprung to his feet, body tense with pent up anger.

"What?" This wasn't where Sam thought this conversation would go.

"You were a selfish bastard. You didn't think that De- _I_ had dreams of my own? Never thought about what your actions would do to us? No idea how we would have to cope without you. And that's all it was; coping. You destroyed our family that night." He pointed an accusing finger at his prisoner.

"What the hell are you talking about? You and Dad were –"

"No, Sam. You don't understand because you weren't there. After you left it wasn't the same. Dad went on a rampage, hunting anything and everything for months. He never stopped. Not until a hunt finally went south and he got injured."

"But he's ok, right?"

"Yeah." The bitterness in the older man's tone was thick and gruff.

"And you?" Sam couldn't help it. This thing looked, acted, sounded like his brother so much at the moment that it was becoming harder to differentiate the two.

Shifter-Dean didn't answer the question. Instead, he picked up his rant. "We didn't talk outside of a hunt. We killed so many sonsabitches, but I didn't care anymore. I just wanted Dad back." His voice cracked. "It was like he was an empty shell. A damned ghost! Cold. Lifeless. And there wasn't nothing I could do for him.

"After he got laid up, I took him to Bobby's. Went and did some jobs on my own while he healed up. One hunt didn't work out so good." A sardonic huff escaped Shifter-Dean as he recalled the memories. (Dean's memories.) "When I got back, Dad ripped me a new one. But I didn't care because it was the first time he'd really talked to me. Next thing I know, Bobby's got a shot gun out and telling us ta git.

"We did, but now dad's got me on a short leash. Kept me pinned to his side like I was twelve again. Strapped me to the bench. Made me do all the research. The research you shoulda been doing. But you left us. You left _me_!" Shifter-Dean struck out.

The sudden connection made Sam bite his tongue and the tears brimming in his eyes to leak out. At least he had an excuse now. The bitter tang of iron lined his mouth. Head still tilted down and to the side, he spit the blood out. "I didn't know. I never meant to hurt you or dad."

"Right, like you never meant to get dragged back in to this life," Shifter-Dean snapped back. "And isn't life a bitch, because you can't escape this life once you're in it. Just chuck _normal_ out of your vocabulary, cause you'll never experience it again."

"It doesn't have to be like that. We don't have to hunt forever."

"Bull shit! Don't lie to me." The shifter lashed out again, snapping Sam's head in the other direction. "I know, cause I've tried. And guess what, you're wrong! Once damned, always damned. Accept it. Look at it this way, with _me_ you'll finally have some purpose."

It looked like the talking was over as blows repeatedly rained down on the youngest Winchester. Sam's world melted into a boiling lump of pain.

- S – P – N –

There was a thumping-smacking sound that broke through the darkness. Sadly, even through the haze of returning awareness, he knew exactly what that sound meant.

However, he wasn't entirely sure if his mind hadn't caught up to the rest of him or something even more bizarre was happening. Because, generally when he heard that slapping thud, pain usually accompanied it. After all, what he heard was the distinct sound of flesh meeting flesh.

Perhaps his hearing was also a bit off because the sound seemed somewhat muffled. Maybe he was drugged, he wondered. That would be new. Most of the time, monsters wanted you to feel the pain. They wanted you to suffer. And the unconsciousness barrier couldn't save you from it forever.

This wouldn't be the first time he woke up while a creature was trying to work him over, but it is the first time that he didn't feel it.

Then he heard a familiar grunt that didn't belong to him. The pained noise brought him right out of the haze. _Sammy!_ He wanted to scream but couldn't get the name past the gag in his mouth.

Everything came rushing back to him then. He had gone back to the Chain of Rocks Inn to take out the Shapeshifter. He had managed to get everyone away so that it was only the shifter and himself. He was supposed to be the first line of defense and if he failed, he knew Sammy would come through.

And yet, hearing the connections between fist and flesh and the pained sounds that followed, Dean realized his back-up plan had gone to pot too. Now he would have to implement plan 'C' – whatever that was.

First things first – take stock of the current situation.

Dean took a breath and assessed his position. He was tied around wrists and ankles with a gag around his head. His shirt had been removed but his shoes and pants were still on. He could only assume in the rush to set the next trap for Sam, the Shifter only took his shirt to make it look convincing. And considering the space around him, he presumed he had been shoved into the closet. Despite all these setbacks, Dean was feeling good about the situation.

For once in his life, Winchester luck wasn't with him – which in reality was a very good thing – because Dean suddenly found himself in a predicament that he could easily escape from. His wrists had been bound in front of him, allowing him some mobility.

But that wasn't even the best part. Long ago he had gotten into the habit of sliding a small pocket knife into the side of his boot. It was such an ingrained process that he often forgot that the tiny blade was even there. Which was another advantage. The Shifter can easily read surface thoughts but the habits and mannerisms of a person were harder to mimic. So instead of disarming his prey, the Shifter didn't even realize the blade was there to remove.

Now all Dean had to do was reach down, pull out the blade and cut his bonds.

Leaning forward he went for the knife, then stopped as the fire in his leg flared back to life. Gasping, he fell back to ease the tension off his wounded limb.

So it would seem that Winchester luck still managed to rear its ugly head and get its dirty little finger into this mess.

After some desperate breaths, Dean managed to unclench his eyes long enough to glance down at the boot in question. Too bad the Force wasn't real or that he didn't have some psychic powers that could pull the knife out for him. That would be an awesome trick, he thought. But alas, no.

The only way Dean would be able to get that knife was to bring up both legs. Which of course meant he would have to bend his knee. And he knew what unpleasant experience waited along that plan. Even now the nerve endings in his leg still burned, let alone the dull pulse of pain that coursed through his whole body.

He may have felt like he'd gone 8 rounds with the MMA world champion, but he was still Dean Winchester, King of Pain. He just needed a minute to figure out the best way to go about this and prepare himself.

Unfortunately, the luxury of time was not on Dean's side. A particularly loud smack grabbed his attention followed by his brother's sharp cry. No, there was no time to dawdle, he had to act now.

And for once Dean was thankful for the gag in his mouth. It muffled the grunt/scream he could not suppress as he yanked his legs up tight to his chest and he reached for the blade in his boot. Frantic fingers desperately sought the knife. The tips of his fingers slid over its smooth surface before he could finally get a hold of it. And not a moment too soon.

His one knee raged with torment, while the other trembled with the strain of working for both legs. Now with blade in hand, the older Winchester yanked it free and relaxed his abused limbs. And while they could not fall flat and ease the suffering completely in the tight space, this was the best he was going to get.

From beyond his makeshift cell, the sounds of the Shifter's anger became clearer. A few more solid hits and cries of agony, the Shifter paused. And in Dean's experience, pauses were bad. Very bad. Because they often brought on a different kind of torture. When the shifter grew tired of bashing you down with its hands, he had no trouble bashing you down with words. And he could not allow the bastard to use his past against Sam.

Just because he had the knife, Dean's task was far from over. Quickly, he managed to open the blade. He then set about cutting through his bonds. Only one thought raced through his mind; _Save Sammy._

- S – P – N –

Sam hurt. A lot, in fact. But what can you expect when you're in the hands of a sadistic Shapeshifter? His vision swam. His head felt three sizes too big for his body. And the ever enjoyable metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He could feel bruises forming on top of the fresh bruises he had just received. And for some minutes he could think of nothing else but the numbing world of pain.

Slowly, the vague semblance of an idea began to form. This was wrong. He shouldn't be here. He should be worrying about his next exam or what to do for dinner with Jess. Not a punching bag for a Shapeshifter. And that's exactly where he found himself.

It was still wrong. Because the bad guy isn't supposed to win. The hero should burst in and save them. A Hero like his Dad or Dean. But dad was missing and Dean was also this bastard's captive somewhere. This wasn't right.

_Dean._ His big brother. His protector. Why wasn't he here? Why isn't he saving him? Sam just wanted his big brother to save him again, like he always did. Like he always knew he would, no matter the situation. Dean promised. And he had never broken that promise. _Dean!_

A familiar voice cut through the layers of thought and agony. "You selfish bastard. You think you were the only one with dreams?" Shifter-Dean hissed, repeating his earlier question. "There was a time I imagined a world where we lived in one house, no more moving. And we lived and played together like a normal family. I even hoped to fall in love and have a family of my own. I…

"After the werewolves, I took an easy hunt of my own to get back in the game. And it was easy. Took care of it quicker than I planned. But I didn't go back to Dad like I was supposed to. I stayed. Met a girl. She was something else. She made me feel… normal. I thought she was the one. But I was wrong. I didn't want to pretend anymore. But she couldn't accept _all_ of me. Don't you see? People like you and me, we don't belong there. Not in school. Not in the suburbs. Not anywhere. We're freaks. And that's all we'll ever be."

"Wrong, you son of a bitch. You're the freak, not us." The real Dean announced , startling the other two.

The Shifter spun around and felt something slide into his chest. Looking down, Dean's hand was fisted tightly around the hilt of a pocket knife that was currently protruding from his heart. And while it was a discomfort, it was not lethal. (Well, to a Shapeshifter anyway.) His gaze slowly worked its way back up to lock with identical hazel eyes across from him.

While the Shifter was caught up in his tiresome monologue, Dean had managed to cut the ropes on his wrists and ankles (despite the agony it caused.) Then carefully opened the closet door and worked his way out, crawling across the floor. Using the edge of the bed, he managed to pull himself up on unsteady legs. It took another moment to feel stable enough to take on the Shifter. And although, he knew the knife he held wasn't silver and would barely damage the monster in the long run, he still used it. There wasn't enough time to sneak around and retrieve the silver weapons on the nightstand between the beds. It was the only thing he had at his disposal.

So when the Shifter turned, Dean struck, burying the blade in the creature's chest. He put all his pain and frustration behind the thrust, and it still didn't seem like enough. His strength already waning. The escape took more out of him than he anticipated. _Save Sammy._

Yet, he wanted to make this thing suffer. For Sammy. For Jenn. For Patrick. For everything. And when their gazes locked, he twisted the knife in deeper, eliciting a gasp from his enemy. "Like that, asshole?" The muscles along his jaw-line convulsed dangerously as he turned the knife again.

Instead of a grimace though, the Shifter simply smirked. "You fail once again, Dean. This won't kill me. Some Hunter you are."

"Oh I knew it wouldn't kill you. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy trying." Dean bit back. Then he pulled the blade out and plunged it in again. More of his energy draining out of him, expended to pierce sinew and muscle.

This time the Shifter did grimace. Roaring in rage, in one swift motion he reached up, knocked Dean's hand away, plucked the knife from his chest and stabbed it into Dean's. The impact threw the already wounded man off balance. Pressing his vantage, the creature picked the Hunter up and flung him onto the bed.

From behind them, Sam's panicked cry rang out. "Dean!"

But the Shifter ignored him as he fell on top of the older Winchester, straddling his prey. "Was it good for you, you self-hating sonofabitch? Because it was for me." He snickered.

Dean's world suddenly teetered on the edge of unconsciousness and torment. And while he would have loved to embrace oblivion, they were not out of the woods yet. His tactic of drawing the creature away from Sam worked well enough, now he just had to figure out a way to kill the bastard. _Save Sammy._

And at this point, that was going to be harder than ever. While the stab wound was far from fatal, it still hurt like hell! His body really couldn't take much more abuse. It wanted to shut down. Dean struggled for breath. So much for plan 'C.'

The Shifter was talking again and it took all his energy to concentrate on what it was saying.

"You failed, Dean. Again, you _failed_. Just like you always do. What? Did you really think you could save _Sam_?" Shifter-Dean mocked. "Why? What good would it do, if you did? He's just going to leave you again. You'll be back to being alone and worthless again."

"He's m'broth'r," Dean slurred. Black spots danced across his vision. _Save Sammy._

"A brother who abandoned you! He left you to rot with Dad while he lived out the apple pie life. And still you protect him. You would throw your life away for him even after everything he did to you? Hell, you would throw it away for a stranger. And why is that? Huh? Why?" Shifter-Dean demanded.

Dean blinked, and even that took a lot of effort. He could feel himself slipping away as quickly as the blood from his shoulder. There wasn't much time left now. He stuck with the simple truths in his life. "Fam'ly biz'ness. Saving people. Hunt… th'ngs." _Save Sammy._

"NO! You can't lie to me!" Shifter-Dean hung on the very edge of insanity. Hysterical, he shook the man beneath him. Venom lined his words. "I know you. I've seen your heart. If it came down to it, you'd trade places with the scum of the earth because you know deep down, you're worthless. That you're life doesn't matter unless you've managed to validate it by saving people. And still that isn't enough. Cause all you ever think about is the people you _couldn't_ save. Those so-called innocent jerks whose lives were lost or worlds shattered. Because you see yourself in them. And you can't handle it. You're just a coward!" The Shifter twisted the knife in Dean's shoulder. A startled cry caught in Dean's throat.

"Dean!" Sam called out to his brother. "Don't listen to him!"

"Don't you pass out on me you bitch!" The Shifter shouted over Sam. He had used pain to ground Dean back into reality. Dragging him away from the arms of darkness that beckoned him. Bitterness, anger and loathing corrupted his tone. "You hear me, bitch? Cause that's what you are, right? You'd whore out your heart and soul if you thought it could save someone, especially Sam." And for the first time since Dean's unexpected return, the Shifter looked back at the younger brother. "What do you say, Sam? Should we find out?"

The creature didn't wait for a response. Instead, he turned back to his prey. "Want to show Sam what a whore you are? If he likes it, I'll let him have a go at you, too. And if you manage to satisfy us both, maybe when we're done, I'll leave him here. It'll just be you and me. I'll never bother Sammy again. What do you think? We have a deal?" The shifter was fumbling with the button on Dean's jeans as he spoke.

Behind them, Sam struggled against his bonds. Rope tore at his skin, rubbing it raw to the point of bleeding. "Dean! Don't listen to him! Don't do this!"

"Well, Dean?" The Shifter demanded. Pausing in his ministrations so he could savor the sweet taste of victory.

Dean Winchester had been fighting for a very long time. Most recently, he was fighting back the pain of his body, the words of the Shifter, the welcome of darkness, and the fears and doubts he struggles with every day. Needless to say, Dean Winchester was very, very tired. His body wanted to shut down, disappear from reality and fade away. He knew if the Shifter didn't kill him some other Supernatural beast would. Maybe not now, but it was only a matter of time.

That was the gig after all. Hunters rarely lived to a ripe old age. And even then, it was usually the job that killed them in some fashion or another. Dean understood and accepted this fate. His body was failing him. He could feel it. Or rather couldn't feel it. He arms and legs were numb. His body a wash of pain. His head swimming. He wouldn't be able to last very long in the Shifter's hands. But he didn't want his brother to share his fate. If this would be his last act, he could at least save his baby brother. That way something good would come from his life.

_Save Sammy._ That familiar voice repeated in the back of his mind. _You take care of your brother. That's your job. You hear me, solder? Protect your brother. Save Sammy._

Dean heard the command all too clear. Knew it so well in fact that it was easier for him to follow than breathing. As natural as the beating of his heart. And he would listen to it again. He tried to say yes, but only managed a weak croaking sound.

Encouraged now, the Shifter yanked his prisoner up, earning a moan for the movement. He slapped Dean's face to force his eyes open so that the brother's could see each other. "Tell me and Sammy here, do we have a deal?"

Hazel met hazel. One side, desperately clinging to hope. The other resigned to fate and extremely tired. Sam's heart sank. "Dean. Don't, please," he begged. A tear slipping free.

For Dean's part, he pleaded with his baby brother and hoped that one day he would understand. This wasn't about giving up. It was always about protecting him. Even before the fire ever happened that changed their lives forever, Dean always knew it was his job to watch out for Sam. His sole purpose in life. _Save Sammy._ And if this is what it took, he'd do it. Summoning up the courage and strength, Dean prepared to give his answer when the sanctity of the room was suddenly shattered.

The door burst open! Kicked in as Patrick forced his way inside. Years of training for such situations took over, and Patrick quickly assessed the situation then fired.

The Shifter spun around and fell off the bed, screaming. The Silver bullet pierced him right under the collar bone, sending liquid fire pumping through his veins. Enraged at the abrupt interruption when he was so close to victory and the blazing wound in his shoulder, the monster slowly got back up. "You'll pay for that you pathetic human!"

But before he could make good on his threat, another impact collided with his torso. Once again, he found a hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of a blade sticking out of his heart. Only this time it wasn't a little pocket knife. This time, it was one of the heftier, Silver blades from the nightstand.

Somehow, Dean tapped into a reserve of energy he didn't know he had the instant he was free. In truth, he didn't register the movement nor actions he took to grab the knife and stab the Shifter. All he knew, was that he had an opening to end this once and for all and he took it. _Save Sammy._ He grinned. He did it.

Still, he was just as surprised as the Shifter to find that it actually worked. For the last time, their eyes met. A flood of emotions coursing between them. Shifter-Dean fell to his knees. Dean, still half-lying on the bed, released the hilt and collapsed. His last conscious sight was the light fading from the monster's eyes as it sunk against the wall and slid to a lifeless heap.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Wow, I am so sorry about the long wait. And I apologize in advance if the last few chapters aren't posted by the time we go on vacay/holiday at the end of July. My muse is still being elusive and not entirely sure I'm pleased even with what I just posted, but I do want this fic finished – soon – so I can move on to other projects.

And to make matters worse June has been the WORST month for technical issues at work! My Outlook kept locking up, signed up for some cruddy Tech Support Service that we're now stuck with for a year, Got 2 different Trojans (and one of those twice in one week) and then the UPS serge/battery backup emitted this really annoying high pitched squeal today during a wicked Thunderstorm. And I won't even go into last Wednesday. Grr.

And while that sounds bad, I'm sure you're still wondering why that even matters. Well the truth of the matter is I still do a bulk of my writing at work and when you have no system for over a week, (practically a month) that gets really frustrating. And I don't really want to do anything once I get home. Still, I am trying and things are finally getting better at work. I am really hoping for a good July.

Anyway, a quick 'Behind the Scenes' moment here. For last chapter, I'm sure some of you have wondered how the Shifter managed to tie himself to the chair. Well, I have thought about that prior to that chapter and basically decided that during a change since his body is already in flux, he kept his arms and legs smaller than normal. He tied rope to the chair and slipped his smaller appendages into the bindings then allowed his body to complete the transformation. I would have put an explanation in dialog but it didn't go well with the flow of things.

And since I already rewrote this chapter once I did not want to have to try again just to work in a line or two here and there for explanations. So please accept this little 'Behind the Scenes' commentary as my way of appeasing those curious readers out there.

Lastly, I hope the end there wasn't so bad. I had originally seen it differently but this is what the muse decided she wanted to do. And since I don't want to piss her off again, I just smiled and nodded.

No Shout Outs again, but as always, Thank you all for reading, faving, alerting, and of course REVIEWING! You're continued support inspires me and my muse, so please keep it up. Have a wonderful week, and in case I don't manage to post anything next Monday, have a Happy 4th!

~Ari :D


	21. Aftermath

Patrick stood there watching as the scene played out with horrid fascination. He knew he had the element of surprise, but when he took in the situation he saw two Deans practically melded together. He had to make a quick decision and hoped it was the right one. He fired and watched one of the Deans get flung backwards off the bed. He had aimed for the shoulder just in case he got it wrong. Even after what transpired next, Patrick wasn't sure.

Sam called out to his brother. His struggles renewed, desperate to get free and check on Dean.

From the doorway, Jenn squeezed her way around Patrick and hurried over to Sam. "Sam! Are you alright?"

He ignored her, his eyes glued to the still form on the bed. "What the hell are you doing here? I told you to go to ER."

"We did." Patrick said defensively as he followed Jenn inside. He attempted to close the door, but his B&E actions kind of made that difficult. The molding along the frame was splintered out and the door jam was on the floor. Sighing, he addressed the younger man, a hint of frustrated sarcasm in his voice, "You're welcome, by the way."

"He's not lying, Sam. We did go, but the wait was over an hour to be seen and I couldn't just sit there while you two were in danger." She had grabbed a knife off the dresser behind Sam, apparently part of the Shifter's collection of torture devices, and started working on the ropes.

Sam accused the Marshal, "You should have known better than to let her leave." He was taking all his anger and frustration out on them. He knew it wasn't fair but he couldn't stop himself.

Patrick had moved to the other side of the bed to make sure the threat was taken care of. "Which is why we _both_ decided to come back here. I wrapped the wound before we left the Hotel. Then I got her in the car and headed for the ER. On the way there, I noticed my gun was sitting on the back seat. Jenn was filling me in on more of the details and I realized that my gun probably had some of those silver bullets you were telling me about. I was intending to drop her off and then head back here after I got Jenn settled. But when we found out how long we were going to have to wait, well she wouldn't let me leave without her. Besides, we figured you guys might need more help than either one of us could have handled alone. Looks like we were right."

As soon as Sam's hands were free, he snatched the knife from Jenn and made quick work of the ones around his ankles. Discarding the blade, he hurried over to his brother. "Dean." Shaking him slightly, Sam got no response. "Oh, god. Come on, wake up man."

Jenn stood next to Sam. "We need to get him to a hospital, Sam."

"I know, I know. Just give me a sec to figure things out."

"We don't have time, Sam." Patrick urged. "I'll help you get him to the car. Jenn you go with them and make sure they get taken care of. I'll stay here and hold the place down." Together, the two men were able to lift Dean off the bed. Sam had Dean's shoulders while Pat grabbed his feet.

"What about the cops?" Sam asked.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not calling them in until I can get this whole mess sorted first."

"You can get in trouble for that." Sam remarked matter-of-factly.

Patrick smirked, "Yeah, well if I call them in now, it won't just be me on the chopping block, will it? The implications are too strong right now and the D.A. and local authorities will blame the wrong man. Let alone, lock me up if I tell them the truth even if I have witnesses. No, we'll handle this but after your brother gets taken care of." He guided them to his Charger rather than the Impala.

Frowning, Sam said, "We can't use your car."

"Sure as hell can. Jenn you drive, use the siren like I showed ya and get these boys to ER fast."

"Yessir." Jenn smiled and climbed in.

Patrick helped Sam in to the back with Dean. "You come back when he's stable and we'll take care of things here, k?"

"Yeah, and thanks."

Patrick glanced at Jenn in the front, then shut the door and tapped the roof. Jenn fired up the engine and the siren and took off.

- S – P – N –

The arrival at the ER was frantic at best. Jenn skidded to a halt then jumped out to fetch help. Within moments nurses and orderlies came rushing out. They pulled Dean out of the backseat and placed him on a gurney. Sam practically fell out the other side and scurried to reach his brother. And found himself being pushed back and ushered to another room.

"No! I have to go with him!" Sam protested fervently.

"Please sir, you have to let the doctor's work unhindered."

"Please, he's my brother." Sam pulled out his best puppy dog expression laced with a heavy dose of desperation and need.

But the nurse was seasoned and would not bend the rules. Sighing, she simply stated, "We will keep you informed. In the mean time, we need to have a look at you two. And if you can tell us what the hell happened I can relay the information to the doctors. It could help us take care of your brother faster."

And before they knew it, they were caught up in the world of red tape, lies, forms and waiting. The Medical two-step. A familiar dance for the Winchesters. In fact, Sam reckoned they had been in as many hospitals as schools growing up. At their rate of familiarity, they could open, run and manage a whole hospital by themselves. Perhaps he had gone into the wrong field after all.

- SPN –

Two hours have passed since Dean had been whisked away. And about 20 minutes have passed since their release from ER. Since then they had been shuffled, dismissed and finally dumped in another waiting room. For Jenn, since their arrival at ER the experience has been a frantic whirlwind and strangely enlightening experience. Automatically, she had deferred to Sam, letting him take the reins of the situation while she moved the car.

As soon as she got back inside and reunited with him, she marveled at his ability to fabricate a credible story as to the nature and cause of their injuries. In fact, the lies rolled off his tongue so naturally and with such an honest and open expression, that had she not been part of it, she would have believed it too. She wondered how often they needed to tell these stories.

Judging by his familiarity of Hospital Procedures, she surmised that it was more times than she really wanted to know. Still, it had not stopped him from complaining and demanding about his brother's condition. After all, he was still a concerned sibling. She had done her best to be supportive and add her own demands when possible. All of which had led them here, where they waited.

Sam looked exhausted and worried. Rightly so, in her mind. She had managed to convince him to sit and rest for a few minutes while she went and got them coffee. There was a vending machine just past the nurse's station. With two steaming paper cups in hand, she approached the desk again. "Excuse me, have you had any word in regards to Dean Winchester? We have been waiting for over 2 hours now for any updates."

"Yes, we are aware Ms. Abernathy, however there is nothing more we can tell you other than a Doctor will come and speak with you once they are finished. We understand how frustrating this can be for you, but you must let us work and take care of Mr. Winchester. Once we hear something, we will let you know. Now please take a seat."

Sighing, she went back to the row of chairs where Sam was slouched with elbows on knees and head in hands. Quietly, she sat down in the seat next to him and nudged her knee into his. "Hey, here," she said as she held out the cup to him.

So deep in thought, it took a moment for Sam to register what was happening. Slowly, he reached out and accepted the offering, mumbling a soft 'thanks.' He sat there, gazing into the dark liquid absently, not bothering to drink.

Jenn watched on sympathetically for a few minutes. The past few days have been the craziest, topsy-turvy days of her life. And she imagined it wasn't quite over yet. With Dean finally in the hospital and the Shifter now dead, their initial purpose for coming to St. Louis had been satisfied. However, that still left a lot of questions unanswered. Her mind had been racing since her first trip to ER. During the drive to and from, she and Patrick had talked about many things. And she desperately wanted to talk with him again. Unfortunately, Patrick was still at the Chain of Rocks Inn, waiting for them to return. Everything was still so messed up.

Another sigh escaped her. The dull thrum of hospital activity did nothing to calm her nerves. Glancing over at Sam, who was rife with pent up tension and a decent dose of painkillers, she decided to engage him in some mindless conversation. "I checked with the nurse. No news yet."

Sam huffed. "Did you really expect some?"

"No, but it was worth a shot. Maybe if we pester them enou-"

"It won't work." Sam cut her off. "It never does. They get to us when they feel like it."

Jenn slouched back into her hard plastic chair and took a sip of the bitter instant coffee. Her gaze just as entranced by the steam, she asked, "So then this _is_ another great amenity of the job, huh? Racking up injuries, touring hospitals."

Sam shrugged. "You could say that. It's still not a place we _want_ to find ourselves in, just we seem to end up here anyway."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "You must have the patience of a saint."

"Far from. Given the chance I'd rip this place apart if I could til I found him. But I know they are trying to help and sometimes, well what else can I do? Pestering only gets you so far. And it just pisses everyone off in the end. It doesn't help Dean any." Sam swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "God, I just want to know he's ok."

Jenn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He is, Sam. You've got to believe that."

"I know, I do. But after everything that's happened I just need to see him with my own eyes." Tortured hazel depths looked up and locked with Jenn's chocolate eyes. "See that he made it through another crappy ass hunt in one piece."

The soul-deep longing slammed into her and her heart clenched. She didn't know what to say. In many ways, there really wasn't anything she could say. Because words couldn't appease his worries. Only one person could do that. So instead, Jenn prayed that Dean was ok and that they would see him soon. She moved closer to her co-worker, wrapping her arm around his taut shoulders and rested her cheek against him. And there they sat, waiting.

The coffees had long since gone cold and forgotten by the time a white coat sauntered through the doors and headed toward them. A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and silver patches along his temples glanced at a chart in his folder before he reached them. "Sam Winchester?"

Sam jumped to his feet, Jenn right behind. "Yes."

"My name is Dr. Emry Favreau, I've been taking care of your brother, Dean."

"How is he? Can I see him?"

"He's resting right now, and I can take you to him."

"Good, then let's go." Sam started back the way the doctor had come.

Taken a little off guard, Dr. Favreau placed a hand on Sam's arm. "Now hold on, son. Wouldn't you like to know his condition?"

Sam frowned. "You can walk and talk at the same time, can't you?"

"Of course."

"Then tell me on the way." Sam pulled out of his grasp and waited expectantly.

Shaking his head, the doctor gave in. "Follow me. As I was about to tell you, you're brother is resting and he has yet to wake up but we expect that should be soon. If you don't mind me being candid," Sam shook his head, "You're brother is beat to hell. He has a number of contusions and lacerations. And whoever stabbed your brother must have been trumped up on something."

"Why do you say that?" Jenn asked from behind them.

The doctor regarded her over his shoulder briefly before answering. "Well, it appears that the initial impact was quite fierce in that it managed to create a small puncture to the bone on the inside of his shoulder blade. The knife blade itself couldn't have been much over 4 inches, and the fact it almost went clear through tells us how forceful the motion was. Along with the bruising around the impact point. Obviously, we have removed the blade and sutured the wound. There was a good amount of damage to the surrounding tissue. The assailant must have twisted the knife while it was still imbedded."

Sam's step faltered as the image of Shifter-Dean turning the blade while on top of his brother flashed before his eyes. Dean's scream echoed in his mind's ear.

"You ok, son?" Dr. Favreau inquired.

Sam shook his head slightly to clear the image from his mind. "Yeah. How much further?"

"He's at the end of the hall." The doctor's hand pointed casually.

"What else?" Sam prompted. He knew that couldn't be the end of Dean's injuries.

"Some bruising to his Kidney, a mild concussion, some bruised and cracked ribs, evidence of a dislocated shoulder amongst other things but the item we are most concerned with is his knee." The Doctor stopped outside a room and looked pointedly at the pair. "I have him scheduled for an MRI later this evening to fully assess the damage. At this point we are fairly certain he has an ACL tear but don't know the extent yet. We will go over that once we have the results of the test back. I would like to make sure Dean is awake as he may need to make a decision on the treatment. You can stay with him until then."

The elder man, gestured for the pair to enter the room but did not follow. He shuffled off to check his next patient.

As the two entered, Sam felt a mix of emotions rush over him. First and foremost was relief, followed by worry, anger and sorrow. All in all, for once in their life, despite the list injuries Dean looked better than expected. The usual monitors had been set up and the standard IV and pulse ox, but no additional tubing or equipment filled the room.

Still Dean looked pale (not including the bruises) amongst the sterile white sheets. And Sam could tell by the steady beep of the heart monitor and his brother's even breathing, Dean was still out. It was time for 'Waiting, Part 2 – The Search for Consciousness.' Resolved to wait, Sam took his position in the chair next to Dean's bed.

Jenn stood in the doorway for a long time. While she was just as concerned for the older brother, she also felt very out of place, almost like an intruder again. These two young men were so unlike any she had ever encountered before. And she seriously doubted she would meet the like again. They were special.

She wrestled with her own emotions as she watched them. It was as clear as day how much love flowed between them. To find that kind of love and devotion in this world was so rare. She was envious. And even though their world was far from sunshine and daisies, they overcame the obstacles with nary a thought and won. The cost of their lifestyle could very well be that one day one or both wouldn't make it out. The weight of that fate could have drug them down to the mud. So yes, she was envious of their love but not of the burden that rested heavily on their shoulders. Indeed, they were very special.

Her need to know what was happening managed to trump her desire to leave them alone, but only barely. So she had decided to keep watch from just inside the doorway and not venture any further until invited.

The two remained vigilant from their separate vantage points for a while. During that time, a few nurses came in and out checking vitals and making adjustments accordingly. Even Dr. Favreau stopped in again to see if Dean had woken up. When it was obvious there had been no change he hurried on his rounds.

It was shortly after the doctor left that Jenn began to notice how much time had passed. Not exactly looking forward to breaking their stoic atmosphere, she felt that it was necessary. "Sam?" He answered with a non-committal grunt. "What should we do?"

"Wait."

"We've been waiting," she answered, though she doubted he needed the reminder. Although, she did add, "And so has Patrick. We need to get back to him."

"And we will. Later." He announced firmly.

"How much later?"

Sam hissed, "As long as it takes." He wasn't going to leave his brother until Dean woke up, and even then he would likely refuse.

Jenn tried to reason with him. "It's already been hours. We need to regroup."

"So regroup, go on, leave. No one asked you to be here!" Sam snapped sharply. "I'm sure you can find your way back to the hotel, hell you could go back to Palo Atlo for all I care. He's my brother, and this is where I'm supposed to be. You don't even belong here." As soon as the words left his mouth, Sam immediately regretted them.

Jenn had taken an automatic step back in retreat from his anger, her eyes glistening brightly. Once again, he had unjustly directed his pent up emotions toward his co-worker. She had helped him so much in his quest to find his brother, taken personal risk in stride, and his harsh words were completely uncalled for. Sam knew couldn't take back what he had said, but he could at least apologize. He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it – hoping the tension would follow. "Jenn, I-"

"Can't a guy sleep in peace?" A groggy voice cut him off.

"Dean!" The pair said at the same time, the previous conversation dying instantly. The room's atmosphere seemed to brighten along with Dean's awakening.

From the bed a sleepy looking Dean was still trying to make his way back to reality. He teased, "Swear you two sound like a married couple."

"Like you know," Sam rebutted.

"Hey, I watch TV." Dean countered defensively.

"TV is only a parody of real life. Extremely exaggerated and often wrong." Jenn pointed out.

Dean's cocky attitude always seemed to recover quickly. With a smirk he answered, "A parody is still an imitation of real life even if it is a bad one."

"Touché." She grinned back.

"Now quiet so I can get some more shut eye." The older Winchester was still very tired. Hoping he accomplished his goal and got them to stop arguing, Dean closed his eyes.

Unfortunately, Sam wasn't quite ready to let him nod off yet. "Hey, how you feeling?"

"Peachy," came the auto response.

"That good, huh?"

"Yeah." Hearing the frown in his brother's voice, Dean cracked an eye open and glanced over at his brother. He could see the worry lines etched on his face. And as much as he wanted to sleep, he knew Sam needed his big bro to make sure everything was going to be ok. Looks like sleep would have to wait. Sitting up a little he winced as pain shot through his shoulder.

Sam immediately caught the pinched expression and soothed, "Hey, take it easy. The knife's gone but the wound's still there."

"Really? Hadn't noticed." Dean ground out. He settled back on the mattress and took a few breaths. "The bastard's dead, right?" Dean used the job to focus his mind on something other than the pain.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." Sam started.

Dean's head snapped to the side to glare at his brother. "What'ya mean 'pretty sure'? You checked it before you left, didn't you?"

"Not personally, Patrick-"

"You didn't confirm the kill?" Dean's eyebrow shot up. "Dammit Sammy, that's monster hunting 101. Dad would be pissed."

"I don't give a shit what dad would think. I was more concerned about my brother than some corpse. And I wanted to make sure I didn't end up with two stiffs instead of one." Dean was about to protest further, but Sam cut him off. "Sides, Patrick made sure. And with his Silver bullet and your knife I'm pretty positive it's dead."

Dean still wasn't happy but there wasn't much he could do about it now. He glanced around the room and noticed for the first time that one of their group was missing. "Where is Patrick, anyway."

"He's still at the hotel."

"Taking care of the body?"

"Not sure, to be honest, but I doubt it."

"You take care of it before you left?"

"No, I had more urgent issues."

"I get that, but a job's a job. We need to go back there and finish it up." Dean attempted to push himself up on the bed.

"You won't be going anywhere except the MRI, young man." Dr. Favreau announced having heard the tail end of their conversation. He smiled at the trio of owl-sized eyes staring at him. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion. I was just passing by when I heard voices and thought I would pop in. Glad to see you're finally awake, Dean."

"Thanks, Doc. Now what's this about an MRI?"

"For your knee," Dr. Favreau supplied. "We need to get a better idea of what we're dealing with. From my preliminary exams, it looks like you may have a tear in your ACL. Once we have a clear picture we can determine what type of surgery would be best, if any."

Sam's brow creased with worry. "Surgery?"

"Yes, there are several options we can choose from, depending upon severity and lifestyle considerations. But we can discuss those once we have the results of the MRI, no need to worry about it now. Besides, it's common practice for this type of injury."

"And what if I don't want surgery?" Dean asked, tone harsh and determined.

"Sometimes, want and need are two separate things. But right now it's too early to tell, so try not to worry about it. Besides, we also have to wait for the swelling to completely go down before we can even proceed with any options. That could be anywhere from a few days to a week. We have time and you can ask as many questions as it takes to help you make your final decision."

"Good, cause I have no problem asking questions, like is it possible for my knee to heal on its own without surgery?"

"Yes. However, depending upon your lifestyle though you may want to consider all options. The knee could heal and not cause you any more trouble if you lead a mild to moderately active life. I have heard it happen. But if you are highly active especially if you are someone who is constantly on the move. The knee could become injured again in which surgery is the only option. Also realize that the stability of that knee could be questionable at best. Simple activities such as walking or even sitting down or standing up could become difficult."

"Well, that's just great," Dean grumbled.

"Look Dean, I realize you've been through a rather traumatic experience, which you seem to be handling rather well I might add. Speculation is not going to help you any right now. I'd suggest you push all this off until we have the results from the MRI. Then I can present you with all your options and you can decide whenever you're ready."

"Not like I got much choice right now, Doc. And it's not like this is my first trip to the hospital, had my fair share already." Dean's voice was even but soft.

There was sympathy in the older man's eyes at Dean's comments, not that he needed it. After all, he noticed the scars marring the young man's skin. Far too many for someone his age. "I noticed."

Dean was never one for pity, especially from a stranger. His expression darkened. Moving on, Dean continued, "My job takes me all over. And it's very active. I can't afford to be laid up too long."

"You may not have a choice. Letting it heal naturally can take just as long as recovering from surgery. And in both cases, you still need to go through PT." Dean was about to protest further, but Dr. Favreau waved him off. "I understand, I do. No work means no pay, right? But if you don't take the time to heal up now, when you have relapses, which is a very high possibility, you may find yourself off more than on. You're young. Take the break now so you can enjoy a long life without worrying about that leg giving out on you again. And let's not forget all your other injuries. You need to take it easy. You need rest."

"Don't worry, Doctor, I'll make sure he does." Sam chimed in. Dean shot him a dirty look.

"Good. Don't worry about that job you were trying to rush out of here to do. I'm sure someone else can take care of it. Now, let me go let the nurse know you're up. They've been waiting to take you down." He started to leave when Sam stopped him.

"Doctor, will I be able to stay with Dean when he goes down for the test?"

"Sorry, Sam." He answered as he turned back to the tall youth. "The test will take a while and no one is allowed in the room while it's going on. You can wait here, if you like. But I suggest you try and rest yourself, or at least get something to eat. Now if you'll excuse me." With a slight bow, Dr. Favreau left.

"Well, this blows." Dean announced. Silence fell over the room while the trio worked through their thoughts. In the end it was Dean that brought them back to the previous problem at hand. "Looks like I'm stuck here Sammy for a while. No point in you sticking around waiting in an empty room. You got stuff you got to finish. Do it."

"No, I'll wait." Sam stated.

Dean's frown deepened. "There's no point. And we need to salt and burn the bastard before he starts stinking out the place."

"I'm not leaving." Sam crossed his arms.

And if Dean didn't know any better, he could have sworn Sam stomped a foot down too. "Yes, you are."

Shaking his head, Sam held his ground. "No, I won't leave you again." Soul-filled eyes gazed down at his brother.

Dean was just about to lose his cool when he finally recognized the emotions burning in his brother's eyes. They confused him for a moment. But once Sam's words sank in, it started to make sense and he just couldn't stay angry. "Sammy. It's gonna be ok. I'm not going anywhere without you, ok? And you're not gonna take off with me, right?" Sam shook his head. "Then go finish the job. I'll be right here waiting for you when you're done. I promise." Dean grinned.

On those last two words, Sam could actually feel some of the tension drain out of him. His gaze softened. The corner of his mouth curved up in response. "You better be, jerk, or else I'm going to add to that laundry list you have on that chart of yours."

"Whatever, bitch."

Their time was up. A nurse strolled in with a wheel chair. "You're up, Dean Winchester." The young woman announced as she entered, unaware of the conversation she was interrupting. Another nurse and an orderly followed her in. Between them all, they managed to get Dean prepped for the move from the bed to the chair. And then get him settled for his ride down to radiology.

Sam noticed the transition had taken a lot out of his brother. Dean was a little paler with a nice sheen of sweat on his brow. They were about to wheel him away when he grabbed for the grips along the wheels and stopped them. Dean looked at him with a grim expression. "When you're done, tidy up but don't check out yet. Need to collect a few things before we go."

"Ok, Dean."

"I'll be here when you get back. I promise." Dean vowed again. Sam just nodded. Then the older Hunter released his hold on the chair and barked. "Let's go already."

Sam watched as the group headed out of the room and down the hall to the elevators. A few minutes passed by before he took a deep breath and released it slowly. Then he said, addressing Jenn without turning, "You heard him, let's go." Sam walked out.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, this is about as raw as I've posted for this story. Only read through this once since the initial draft. So hopefully it flows well and doesn't sound too far off. Reviews are the only way us author's know if we're doing alright. And even though we are close to an end, it's still great hearing from you. ;)

As I said, we are coming to an end soon, I'm hoping 1 more full chapter and then an epilogue. But we'll see. Hehe. Oh and also, I'm no doctor, heck I barely know any medical mumbo jumbo, but I did research ACL tears before I even started writing this fic. So I do have some sources regarding treatments. Hopefully, they sound believable enough and you forgive any 'malpractice' real doctors/nurses might notice. Thanks.

I hope everyone had a great 4th of July. Just a heads up that I may not be able to post on next Monday, I'll try but I can't promise anything. I'll be away from home and don't know what kind of internet connection I'll have. Let alone if the muse will finish this next chap in time. I will post soon though, promise!

A quick Shout Out to _Jessie girl_ – Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Hopefully, I didn't lose you by chapter 20. You'll have some of those theories answered by now, but sadly, no Bobby or Cas in this fic since this is still Season 1 and they haven't shown up yet. Once again thanks!

As ever, thank you to all those wonderful people out there who have reviewed, alerted, faved and read this fic. You Rock!

Until next time,

~Ari :D


	22. Fan the Flames

Patrick hung up the phone and stood there a moment looking around the room. It seemed that in a matter of hours his life went from bizarre to downright certifiable. And what was even crazier is that for some unknown reason he had taken these people on their word then went ten steps beyond that and actually trusted them!

And if that wasn't enough, they had returned that trust automatically. For that, Patrick did silently thank them. It couldn't be easy in their position. In fact, he would have assumed that it was not something granted often to strangers, in light of the situation.

The Marshal walked to the back of the room and looked down at the body of a monster. The outrageous information that Sam and Jenn had shared with him would have been unbelievable if not for his own experience with the creature. Remembering his time in the sewer, Patrick leveled his gun and shot the thing again. It was totally unnecessary, but it felt good. The thing was dead. It hadn't even twitched when he first checked it. This nightmare was truly over.

Unfortunately, it left a mountain of red tape and procedures in its wake that he was not looking forward to cleaning up. The only benefit to this situation was his position. When the others left, he headed for the hotel office and told them he was a U.S. Marshal and there was a situation in one of the rooms and that he was taking care of it, no need to call the cops.

When he got back to the room, he called the Hospital to give them a heads up on Dean's arrival. Then he called in a couple favors with one of the Department heads there, when he advised them that Dean was under his supervision and protection and not to alert the local police due to questionable conduct within the department. It was a lie. But one he felt would cause the least amount of questions and still obtain the desired effect. And total discretion at this point was necessary.

Now he was debating on whether he should call his old friend, Mike Lennertz. He would have to check in with the precinct at some point but without having all the facts, he wasn't sure if now was the right time. Procedure dictated he should regardless, but his gut was screaming not to. Sighing, he decided to follow his instinct.

Patrick reached over to the bed and yanked the cover off and threw it over the creature. He really didn't want to look at it anymore. Instead, he scanned the room again. His rarely used investigative techniques were itching to be put to work. Too often he was put on escort and transport duty, so how could he pass up an opportunity like this?

Patrick began searching the 'crime scene,' after all, he was stuck there for a while. With the door frame busted in (from his initial surprise entry) there was no way to seal off the room. And from all the commotion and a dead body in the corner, he couldn't just walk out. Let alone, his car was currently at the hospital with the rest of the group. So he may as well be productive.

At first glance, it looked like a run of the mill hotel room – 2 queens, night stand, blinking clock, dresser, crappy old tube TV, mirror, table with two chairs. Of course, after the turmoil, the one chair sat in the middle of the room with the remnants of rope scattered around it. On top of the dresser were the creature's instruments of torture. Not ready to get up close and personal with those again, he continued his onceover. Along the wall between the beds several pieces of paper were taped up.

Making his way over, he recognized them as newspaper clippings showing the arrests of several individuals citing similar claims. Jenn told him how this creature had been in the area for a while destroying people's lives. Guess these were the other victims. Glancing down, along with a handful of knives laid out, there were scraps of paper with scribblings on them. Some were written on napkins or ripped off parts of diner placemats. He gathered them up to read them over.

Straightening up from his hunched over review, his body chose that moment to remind him that he wasn't exactly tip top either. Patrick groaned at the aches and pains. The Marshal went to the chair by the table and sat down. There he found some more reading material as various papers and folders were spread out over the wooden surface.

Surprisingly, he even found a couple case files that appeared to be copies from the Police database. The kid had obviously made an appearance in the Police Station to get them. Patrick marveled at the kid's skills. He managed to pass himself off as a trustworthy colleague to get the highly secure documents.

Over the next few hours the Marshal read through the files and notes. Needless to say, he was impressed. The kid had worked out a lot of things the Police hadn't even thought to put together. If he had been on the Force, they probably would have had this case cracked weeks earlier. A pang of regret shot through him. There were a number of innocent men right now serving time for crimes they didn't commit. And they almost added Dean Winchester to the pile of mistakes.

It wasn't fair. In fact, even now it seemed impossible to set things right. These men were bound to hang. The evidence on hand pointed to them, saddling them with their loved one's death. They told the truth and were condemned for it. And what could he do? He couldn't explain what really happened. No one would believe him. Probably fire him for even trying to pass off such a story as the truth.

No, his evidence to the contrary was circumstantial and the only thing he could produce was the corpse of the creature, but even then, it would only prove 'Dean Winchester' was the serial killer. Let alone the fact that Dean would be considered dead. Which might work to the kid's advantage later on, but could also cause further complications. It would take a lot of work to clear their names. He needed help.

Fortunately, enough for him, Sam and Jenn walked in just then.

Jenn's eyes eagerly scanned the room and she smiled when she found him. He smiled back and then looked to Sam, who seemed to be staring blankly into the room. Fearing the worst, Patrick asked, "How's Dean?"

At the mention of his brother, Sam pulled out of his thoughts. "He's fine."

Huffing, the Marshal commented, "Didn't look fine when he left, but I'll take it. He'll live, right?"

"Yeah."

Jenn decided to offer some details, "He was being taken to MRI when we left. They said his knee might have torn something."

Patrick grimaced. "Ouch, had a friend in High School tear his ACL, heard the pop and everything. He was off the team for the rest of the year and we were just prepping for the Homecoming game."

"I'm sure that's fascinating and all, but I would really like to get this sorted so I can get back to him ASAP." Sam snapped.

From beside him, Jenn frowned. Sam was still irritable from having to leave his brother's side. Sighing, she announced, "Dean wanted us to come back and take care of everything here."

Patrick nodded. "Great, what's the plan?"

"Salt and burn."

"Come again?"

Sam didn't answer right away. He walked to the back of the room to where the shifter lay and pulled the duvet off. He stared down into the unseeing hazel eyes of his brother. He held such contempt for this creature and what it tried to do. Crouching down he wished he could kill the creature again. Cause more pain. Unfortunately, the Shifter was already cold and rigid as rigor mortis set in.

A slight golden glint caught his gaze. The familiar charm was peeking out from under the Shifter's torn and bloody shirt. With angry haste, his hand darted out and yanked it from the monster's neck. He knew his brother would want it back. Now that he thought about it, Sam moved slightly so he could pat down the Shifter's jean pockets. There he retrieved Dean's cell. He did one final scan to collect anything else the shifter had procured. Satisfied, he had found everything, Sam started tucking the blanket around the corpse. He had almost forgotten about the others until Patrick came up behind him.

"You mind explaining what you mean by 'salt and burn?'"

Sighing, Sam answered curtly, "In order to make sure this thing is good and gone, we have to take the body, purify it with salt and then burn it."

"Well if that ain't a picnic in the park. You do realize we're in a city, right? Lighting up a body isn't going to be easy, let alone the smell it's going to produce. And how are we going to get it there?"

"In the car. We'll take it to the industrial area. Find an abandoned warehouse. People usually don't question smells too much there."

"Sounds like you've done this before."

"More than a few times anyway." Sam looked over to Jenn who had gone slightly paler from the conversation. "Think you can find me some rope to use?" She simply nodded and went about her task.

Patrick moved closer and squatted down next to him. "You know, I really shouldn't let you do this. As much as it sucks, he's the only proof I got to what's really happened here. If we burn it, it will complicate things."

"And if we don't we'll have a whole new assortment of complications. Trust me, of the two paths this is the better option. And this is what Dean wanted me to do, so I'm doing it."

The Marshal's hands lifted off his knees in a mini surrender. "Fine, this is your show. I'm just covering my bases here. Believe me, it will give me a lot of satisfaction seeing this thing burn. But I'm also thinking about your brother and all the other innocent men we got locked up. I think it only fair that we consider their situations too."

"Don't you think I know that?" Sam bit back. "I'm here because of his arrest. I knew he didn't do it. That he got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was trying to _save_ people, not hurt them. And he's the one paying the price!"

Patrick stood up and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. Jenn offered him a sympathetic glance as she approached with the requested rope. As she held the rope out, she gently added, "We know that, Sam. I think what Patrick is trying to say is that Dean was trying to stop any more innocent lives being torn apart, which he did. Now all we want is to make sure that those already suffering, including Dean, are absolved of these horrible crimes as well."

Sam finished wrapping the Shifter up and stood to look at both of them. "I appreciate the gesture but unless you can find a way to make the reality of the situation credible, I think you're fighting a lost cause. And I'm not letting my brother go to jail." Jenn and Patrick shared a sorrowful glance but could find nothing to say. "Now let's get going. We still have to get this door fixed and the night's not getting any younger."

- S – P – N –

With 3 people working together, it didn't take them long to have the Shifter loaded in the Impala along with enough supplies to get the fire going. Patrick and Jenn followed Sam in the Charger to a dilapidated building on the outskirts of the industrial area, as far away from any homes as they could get.

The trio worked to build a small pyre, then Sam waved the salt can over the body followed by the lighter fluid. For Jenn the whole experience soon became too much to take. When you see it on TV or in the movies, burning a body almost seems serene and beautiful. The way the flames and smoke dance together to consume the body is an enthralling spectacle. Unfortunately, the reality of it was completely different.

When Patrick mentioned something about smell, Jenn didn't think it could be that bad. Boy was she wrong. It was like a barbeque gone bad, only 10 times worse. The stench of charred flesh was overwhelming. Never had the acrid smell and taste of bile ever been so welcome.

Patrick noticed how sickly she began to look and told Sam that he was taking her to get the supplies they needed to fix the door and do it. Truth be told, he wasn't exactly fairing much better than Jenn, but managed to hide it a tad more convincingly than she had. After the Marshal informed Sam of their plan, he added that they would meet back at the hospital, leaving the younger Winchester to his grim task alone – which in all honesty suited Sam just fine. As soon as he was done he was free to return to his brother instead of worrying about some stupid door. The pair walked off into the night.

Finally alone, Sam allowed his raging and chaotic thoughts to consume him. It had been just 72 hours since this nightmare began, well for Sam anyway. 72 hours worth of worry and frustration and death and anger and pain. A litany of drama and chaos. All for what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No purpose behind the madness.

And that's what it truly boiled down to. Some psychotic bastard – supernatural or not – who got his jolly's hurting others. Amongst the victims; a college friend, his brother, himself, a co-worker who had been drug into this mess by Sam and a U.S. Marshal. They didn't deserve this. It wasn't fair. Life just wasn't fair.

Not that he should have expected anything more. After all, life hadn't exactly been spectacular for their family. Their mother murdered by some supernatural creature. Growing up on the road, constantly changing schools, little chance for real friendship or a future. The hunt. The drive for revenge that led to a lifelong obsession for their father. No escape.

Or so he thought when he was younger. But he did manage to find a way out. He chose college over family. A hope for his future that the other two didn't seem to understand. He did not want to spend his entire life hunting but he knew that staying would only lead down that path. A path he never wanted to walk.

And Dean; he had embraced it for their father's sake. Always trudging behind, following in the wake of their father's hellbent determination to destroy every supernatural thing out there. No end. No escape. These monsters had been around since the dawn of time, and there appeared to be no end to their presence. No future.

No existence outside of pain and strife and heartache. There would always be something to hunt. There would always be a victim, an innocent person caught up by old hate and primal rage. Everyone was vulnerable; every man, woman and child – hunter or bystander alike. How could they save the world? A handful of people fighting against the creatures in the dark. A tiny group of people whose lives were touched by evil and instead of taking it chose to fight back. Sacrificing the rest of their lives for a hopeless cause.

It angered him and disgusted him. Didn't they deserve a future? Happiness? He had managed to get out, get away from all the pain and heartache. He had school, friends, a job, a future. There was still even a chance for marriage and a family. Thinking about it now, he wondered why he had waited. He should have asked her already. He knew practically since their first meeting he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. What had stopped him?

Staring into the flames, he watched as they danced and began to form a familiar shape. Jess. Her eyes sparkling. And that soft gentle smile that warmed him in the coldest nights. God, how he missed her. A powerful longing surged through him and he reached out for her. But instead of touching smooth skin, searing heat tried to engulf his hand. And it all changed.

She was no longer smiling at him, her face now contorted by agony. And the flames seemed to consume her rather than the pyre underneath. Wrong. All wrong! His head began to pound. He couldn't breathe. He had to save her! Reaching out, he grabbed for her. Pain was all he found, his hand burned by the blaze. Quickly he snatched it back, cradling it protectively. His gaze still locked on her face. He watched as the fire burned brighter, engulfing her and she screamed. His own cry of denial echoing hers. The pain in his head spiked and then nothing.

- SPN –

When Sam finally came to, the Shifter was a handful of embers and wisps of smoke amidst a pile of ash. His head hurt, but not as badly as he expected. Just a dull throb. Gingerly sitting up off the unforgiving concrete, Sam attempted to figure out what the hell happened to him. He wished he could blame it on alcohol, but he hadn't had a drink in days. Stress, maybe? Nothing made sense. It would have to wait until later.

With one hand he applied pressure at his temples with his thumb and fore finger. Still feeling slightly groggy and out of sorts, Sam realized that only a few hours had passed and it was late in the night. With the Shifter basically ash, he decided it was time to get back to his brother. Carefully, he picked himself up and headed back to the Impala. Climbing inside, Sam started her up and headed for the Hospital.

He still felt like crap when he arrived. The building was virtually empty now, visiting hours long since over and only the minimum amount of staff wandered the halls. Sam was grateful for it. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with anyone right now. All he wanted was to see his brother.

Exiting the elevator, he bee lined it for Dean's room only to be stopped by the nurse manning the station for this wing. "Excuse me sir, but you can't be here." Sam didn't recognize her. Shift change, he decided. She was walking around the counter to block his approach. "You'll have to come back in the morning."

"Listen, Paula," Sam began, reading her name tag, his tone a mixture of weariness and desperation. "I know you're just doing your job, I do. But that's my brother in there and after everything he's… we've been through, there is absolutely nothing you can say or do that would keep me from him right now. Call security if you must, but you'd sooner be admitting them than getting me out. All I want is to be there for my brother. He needs me. And I need him. Just let me be there."

Sam didn't bother to wait for her reply. He just shuffled past her. He knew by her expression, she wasn't going to stop him. Slipping into Dean's room, Sam could still make his brother out in the dim lighting. The fact that Dean wasn't still awake waiting for him meant one of two things; he was on some good meds or he was really hurting. Perhaps one led to the other. All Sam knew was Dean was alive. The steady beeping from the monitor confirmed it.

Taking comfort in that fact, Sam carefully maneuvered a chair to the bedside and sank down into it. Dean didn't stir, thankfully. Reaching out, he worked his hand into Dean's, craving the contact and the verification it brought. Oh he knew his macho brother would be balking at the hold if he was awake, but Sam didn't care right now. He needed this and Dean would just have to deal.

Taking a breath, he leaned back in the chair to watch his brother. The low light and the white noise of the hospital conspired with his exhaustion and headache to lull him into a deep dreamless sleep.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Hello all, I know it's not Monday, and I can't even say that I'm back to posting, but I did manage to get another chap written and I'm working on the next now. I really do want to get this fic finished and have been bugged I haven't been able to hash out the last few chaps. Here's to hoping my muse returns as we inch closer to spring.

Anyway, another reason I decided to post was in celebration of Dean's birthday. I know he doesn't really like a lot of attention, and this chap I think fit well considering he's not really in it. So here's to you Dean, Happy birthday! Lol.

Oh, and I'm not an expert on salting and burning, but I was trying to figure out the reality a little more rather than the fantasy we always see on TV or in the movies. I watched the convention episode again (sorry too tired right now to confirm the title, I think it's The Real Ghostfacers) and thought about how those two guys said digging graves was really hard work compared to what they read in the books. And I have heard that funeral homes with cremation services are sometimes opposed in a town because of the smell from the burnings. And I even recalled Mary's comments on 'the smell as her flesh roasted off,' even if she was only saying it under Zachariah's influence in Darkside of the Moon. And I've burned enough dinners to know overcooked meat isn't the best of smells. So I figured, why not try and bring a touch of reality in to this fic. Hehe.

Now for a few Shout outs considering that I'm practically rubbish right now but still wanted to get them in. _Jessie girl_ – I'm so glad the wild goose chase was fun for you too. I didn't originally plan it but I really liked how it came out. And you're welcome for the shout out, I'm sure it was for you. Lol. _Angelic Abomination_ – It's funny you mentioned that because I had this chapter partially written when I posted and I think I answered that question via our buddy Patrick. ;) and _Dean's Sweetheart_ – Wow, thank you so much! I really appreciate all your comments. And it always makes me so happy to hear that people like Jenn. I am always hesitant to bring in a female OC because of the obvious romantic possibilities so many other fanfic writers seem to want to thrust on the Winchester boys. I was very diligent to make her believable and natural while avoiding the romance thing for as long as possible. Thanks for letting me know she's a great OC. I am still hoping to finish in a few more chapters, although I am sorry to have made you and everyone else wait so long for this chapter. I'm desperately hoping that the wait for the next chap won't be nearly as long.

Well, I think I've gabbed on long enough and I'm barely keeping my eyes open, which probably means I should go to bed. So sorry if I'm not really making any sense. You know how tired ramblings can be, right? Thank you for your patience! Reviews do feed a starving muse, I know I don't deserve it, but please help a muse in need. Thanks! Hopefully, I will see you all next Monday.

Thanks for reading,

~Ari :D


	23. Deal

"You look like shit, ya know."

The blunt statement brought Sam from groggily rousing to sharp awareness. Glaring up at his brother he managed a grumpy response. "Right back attcha."

Dean smirked. "Don't be jealous, Sammy."

"Not even a little." Stretching, Sam asked, "Whatimeizit?"

"Just after 11, sleeping beauty."

Sam made a face then ignored the nick name. "When did you wake up?"

"About an hour ago."

"And you didn't wake me?"

"You were out, dude." Sam leaned back in his chair and stared at nothing for a moment. The events of the night before slowly made their way to the forefront. Had the image of Jess in the fire simply been a dream or something else? And if it was something else, what exactly did that mean? Something deep in his gut hinted that there was more to it.

Concerned at his brother's silence, Dean inquired, "You ok?" There was still no response from the younger Winchester. Again he attempted to gain Sam's attention, "Earth to Sammy. You there?"

Dean's voice managed to break through his wayward thoughts. Not sure what to think about his musings let alone say, Sam gave a quick nod. "Yeah."

But Dean wasn't fooled. His baby brother's face still held a small pout and his brow creased in intense contemplation. "Alright, out with it. What's wrong?"

Snapping out of his reverie and pushing the memory of Jess burning aside, Sam shook his head in denial. "Nothing's wrong."

"Don't give me that BS. I know that look." Sam was about to protest but Dean kept talking. "The look you always got when working on some puzzle where you haven't got all the pieces to fit together just yet and it's bothering the hell out of you. So spill."

Suddenly Sam felt strangely protective of his thoughts. If they had been a physical toy like when they were kids, he would have tucked it away in his jacket or bag to hide it. Of course, Dean had already called him out on it which meant his brother wouldn't stop asking about it until Sam told him something. Sighing, he began, "Really dude, it's nothing. Just a rough night and a bad dream. Nothing I can't handle and nothing you need to worry about. Seriously." He did his best to reassure his brother.

"Fine. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Dean threw his hands up as sign of his backing off. But Dean Winchester never really backed away from anything. "If you want to carry all that baggage around by yourself, I'm not stopping you. You know where to find me when you're ready to talk."

"Talk?" Sam snapped. The younger Winchester went from slightly annoyed to down right pissed in .025 seconds flat. "_I_ should talk? Open up? That's rich coming from you. I thought you hated – what do you call them? – Chick flick moments."

Taken aback by the sudden fury pouring off his brother, Dean shot up his defenses. "Hey, if you don't want to talk, then don't talk!"

Infuriated, Sam jumped up out of his chair, began pacing and combing his fingers through his shaggy hair. "Damn it Dean, all I've wanted to do was talk to you since I got here. I wanted you to tell me what's going on so I can help you."

"And you did help me. We got this Shifter, didn't we?"

"It's more than that, Dean. That Shifter did more than just copy your face. He _was_ you. Or a twisted version of you and some of the things he said, the things he eluded to… I couldn't stop him from talking, but he wasn't the one I wanted to hear it from." Some of his anger subsided as he turned painfilled eyes on his broken brother. Desperate to reconnect. "You've always been there for me growing up. But I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to protect me. And I was stupid cutting you out of my life. I realize that now, but there's nothing I can do about that. All I want is to be there for you like you were for me. For you to trust me like I do you. For you to tell me what's happened to you since I've been gone."

Dean stared up at his ginormous baby brother. This wasn't the little kid Dean had taken care of, this was a man. And as much as he wanted to open up and share everything, he wasn't sure if he could or even knew how. He had been fighting alone for so long, bottling up so much crap, that if he dared let a little out, he feared it would topple the dam he erected and come flooding out.

But that wasn't his only reason for hesitating. Sure, Sammy was here now when he was in a real jam and bailed him out. But this was only a quick trip. College was waiting and he knew Sam wasn't ready to jump back in the saddle and ride with Dean again. Two cowboys, fighting the good fight and riding off into the sunset. No, when this was all over, it would be one cowboy riding off while the other waved goodbye. Why burden the kid with knowledge he didn't need to carry?

Clearing his throat, Dean glanced down at his hands resting in his lap on top of the bleached hospital sheet. "There's nothing to tell."

"Don't lie to me! Not after all this. Not after what that monster said."

"And what did he say, Sammy? Enlighten me, why don'tcha?"

"He told me about dad. Told me how he shut down and focused on hunting. That you both got involved with some hunts that went south."

"Yeah, well that's nothing new. How many hunts have gone sideways on us over the years?"

"Then what about how he said you tried to leave the life. Even thought about marriage."

Dean's gaze narrowed dangerously. "Ever think this bastard may have been lying to get under your skin?"

The venom in his voice and the daggers in his eyes, told Sammy that this was something Dean absolutely did not want to talk about. Something too painful. He had seen the expression many times growing up, whenever he broached the subject of their mother. Realization crashed over Sam. "My God, it's true," he whispered. All the anger and frustration drained out of him. Slowly, he sank back into the chair. "You actually tried to get out?"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, cursing the fact that despite years of separation they could still read each other pretty well. Deflating in the hospital bed, Dean admitted, "It was a while ago. I wasn't thinking straight. Down right stupid really. It didn't work. I left. End of story."

"But you actually tried to leave the life?" Sam just couldn't believe it.

"No Sam, not leave. Just put it on hold for a while," Dean clarified. "She wanted me to join her at school, but you know me, I'm not really the schooling type. I'm hands on, ya know. But I thought I would give normal a shot for a little while. It was short lived. And I was an idiot for ever thinking I could get out."

"But you did try," Sam pointed out eagerly. Maybe there was still hope for both of them for a future.

"Yeah and it was one of the worst mistakes I ever made. Got back and Dad reamed me out for taking so long. He didn't trust me after that. And he had ever right not to. Just kept sending me on the kiddie hunts. It took forever for him to finally give me some bigger jobs.. And when I finally thought we were back to the way we were before, he sends me on a hunt to New Orleans and then bails. Turns out I was wrong. I was just a liability to him. Tho, can't blame him for not wanting me along, I do just mess stuff up. Now, all I want to know is if he's ok."

"If you ask me, good riddance. The man should be the one checking up on us and making sure _we're_ ok, not dumping us when it suits him." Bitterness lined every syllable. "He's probably de-"

"Hey! Don't you say it. He's fine."

"Well then he should have checked in by now."

"I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Stop it! Stop defending the man. He doesn't deserve it."

"He's our father Sam. He deserves our respect."

"Respect is a two way street Dean. He's treated us like kids all our lives. Never trusting us enough to tell us what the hell is going on. Just that he was after the thing that killed mom, a woman I barely even knew."

Dean threw off the flimsy sheet and sprang to his feet in the blink of an eye. Adrenaline stopped the pain from knocking him back on his ass. He advanced a step toward Sam and grabbed the younger man's collar. All the wires and hook ups straining to stay connected as Dean stretched them to their limits. "Don't you talk about mom like that."

Sam refused to buckle under the intense fury raging in the green gaze of his brother. Fortunately the standoff was aborted when someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

"Ahem. I hope I'm interrupting something." The day nurse announced with a scowl and her hands firmly planted on her hips.

Dean abruptly let go of Sam with a slight push, as if suddenly disgusted by the close proximity, but his eyes never left his brother's face.

Sam stood his ground for a moment before turning to reply to the nurse. "Don't worry, the discussion's over anyway."

"Uh huh." She seemed entirely unconvinced. The nurse eyed the pair critically then chose to tackle duty first. "You," she pointed at Dean, "back into bed. I want to check your leads to make sure they are still in place."

And for once Dean was grateful for the command. As quickly as his burst of adrenaline hit it seemed to fade twice as fast. His knee was throbbing again. And the fight left him overexcited yet oddly drained. He flumped back onto the bed and then paused. He couldn't quite pull his leg up onto the thin mattress.

Sam automatically moved to help his brother as soon as he saw Dean struggle. Neither spoke but both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

The nurse waited silently until the older Winchester was settled back in position. She then proceeded to check his leads and begin her routine checks as well. She was almost done when she decided to interrupt the thickening silence. "Looks like everything is still in place and you're recovering as well as can be expected considering…"

"Considering what?" Dean asked.

She frowned, "Considering that my patient's recovery is being extremely hindered by negative influences." The nurse glared daggers at the brothers, who knew enough to look at least a little chagrinned even if their melting fury still flickered in their eyes. "I really don't care how or who started it. It's my job to ease my patient's discomfort and create a healing environment. In my experience, that is helped when the patient is surrounded by supporting and loving friends and family."

Her gaze locked with Sam's then slowly moved to Dean. Whatever argument was happening before was slowly giving way to guilt and regret. She decided to take pity on the pair. "Look, in my line of work, I've seen a lot of things, heard a lot of stories. And no matter what pasts people struggle with, even if it seems horrible, it's still something you can forgive and over come. And believe me, it's possible. This may seem a little random, but hear me out.

"I met a man once a while ago. His story was really amazing. Joe told me about his younger sister and how she got married. Everything seemed ok, but one day Joe found out his sister was murdered by her husband, Frank. His brother-in-law was tried and convicted of the murder and serving time. Needless to say Joe was angry and plotting his revenge. But while Frank was in jail, he got help and found his faith again. He asked for forgiveness of his in-laws, knew he could never right the wrong he had done, but that he was truly sorry. Joe didn't want to forgive Frank even though the rest of his family had. And Frank really wanted Joe's forgiveness but understood his anger. Later on, Frank decided he wanted to help other inmates heal and started working as a missionary at a prison. While Joe worked on finding a way to forgive, he decided to go on a mission trip to a local prison. There, for the first time since the murder, both men were finally able to meet and talk. And they were finally able to find forgiveness. The two now work together as missionaries to help criminals find their way again."

She waited a few minutes to let the boys absorb the story. "Now I don't know what's gone on between you two, but I can also see that there's still love there. Perhaps all you two need to do is talk things trough, hear the other's perspective. And if that's the case, don't try to run before you can walk. There's a reason we take baby steps. It's a way of testing our surroundings and limitations. You build confidence on secure footing. And when you fall you have two options, give up or try again. Just take it one step at a time."

Sighing deeply, she headed for the door. "Well, that's all you're getting from me. I'll be back to check up on you boys. Don't make me separate you." With one hand on the door frame, the nurse turned and gave them a pointed look before walking away.

In the following silence, the Winchesters were deep in thought. Neither really knew what to say or where to begin. And there was some trepidation on starting up another conversation. It seemed that every time they talked, they somehow ended up in a heated argument.

It was a couple hours later when one finally spoke. "'M sorry," Sam muttered.

Dean automatically dismissed with a smirk, "Don't worry about it, Sammy. It takes two to tango, right?"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Dean."

"There's nothing you ne-"

"Yes, there is. There's a lot I need to be sorry for. That I need to apologize for." Sam's pleading eyes peered up at his brother.

Dean's façade was on the verge of collapse when he saw the pained expression on his baby brother's face. He needed them off this line of thought. "Come on, Sammy."

"Dean, let me get this out, ok?" Sam watched his brother, the concern and worry easily written on his face, but Dean remained silent. Sam continued, "I am so sorry for how I acted growing up."

"You were just a kid." Dean countered.

"Yeah, but that's no excuse for the way I treated you. You always took care of me, watched out for me, did everything you could to make life easier for all of us. And I never really thanked you for any of that."

"It was my job, Sammy."

"But it shouldn't have been. You were just a kid yourself, not meant to shoulder that kind of responsibility."

"Dad had more important things to take care of. I was just trying not to screw it up too badly."

"No, he should have been taking care of his kids – us. But you stepped up, kept our family together. You took care of us. Sacrificed everything for us."

"I think you've got things a little skewed there, Sammy. I just did what I had to."

"You did more than that." At Dean's sardonic laugh, Sam asked, "Why do you always do that?"

"What?"

"Downplay everything you've done."

"Because you're making mountains out of mole hills. I did my job. That's all. You're making me sound like I did all this… That I'm some kinda… I don't know what but I'm not who you think I am. I screwed up more than I ever got it right."

"That's not true. Who kept us fed and clothed and got us to school on time?"

"Yeah, the same guy who fed you Lucky Charms and PB&J for a month, which you hated, until the money ran out and we starved til Dad showed up. The same guy who took you to goodwill to get crappy hand me downs that got you picked on all the time. That's who."

"But I still got fed and clothed. It wasn't your fault we didn't have money. You did the best you could with what we had."

"Stop, Sam. Stop trying to make it sound better than it really was. You hated growing up the way we did, moving all the time. Now you're trying to tell me it was all honey and milk."

"You're right, it wasn't perfect, but it could have been a helluva lot worse if not for you."

"Sam…" There were equal portions of pleading and warning in his older brother's tone as the man pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Just take the compliment, Dean."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"That's all you're gonna get."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"You're gonna tell me, Dean."

"Tell you what?"

"Why you can't accept any praise."

Sam's face was set in grim determination, so Dean knew his brother was not going to let this go until he got an answer. So he reverted back to his old tactics in hopes it would end this conversation. "Because I already know how awesome I am. I don't need people to tell me."

A cocky smirk graced his features, but Sam noted that it also never reached his eyes.

And he wasn't about to be put off. He decided to deploy some old tactics of his own. "Great. Glad to hear it. Cause you are awesome. You figured out it was a Shifter. Saved Becky's life, mine, Jenn's _and_ the real Patrick's with that little ruse of yours when you sent me back to the sewers."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Hope you're not too mad at me for sending on that goose chase."

"Actually, I'm still pissed. But like I said, it saved Patrick's life."

"Which was an awesome move on my part, because he saved the day in the end."

"No, that was still you, Dean. _You_ got the Shifter."

"But only cause of his distraction."

Suddenly, Sam was back in those last crazy moments. That creature on top of his broken brother. That sickening feeling returning as he recalled the defeat in his brother's gaze. Swallowing back the bile threatening to come up, Sam asked in a quiet whisper, "Would you… when the Shifter threatened – bargained with you… would you have done it? If Patrick hadn't…"

"Sammy…"

"Dean, please. The truth. Just tell me the truth, just this once. Would you have let him… just to save me?" Sam couldn't say what that creature implied. It was too horrific to fathom and he would not let his mind wander down that path.

"Sammy, you should know the answer to that." Dean tried to smile reassuringly, but it fell short.

And Sam's heart broke, because he really did know the answer. "God Dean…" he sobbed.

Automatically, Dean reached out to his brother to console him. "Hey, hey, hey. It's ok, Sammy. It's ok. You know I'd do anything to protect you, no matter what the cost. That's my job, right?"

"Dammit Dean, No!" Tear filled eyes looked up at the older man. "No. Not if the cost is you, Dean. I'm not willing to pay that price."

Dean was stunned into silence. The raw emotion in his brother's features tore away every barrier Dean had ever erected in his life. And he hated how the kid could do that to him so easily. He had to be better than this. Stronger. With one last ditch effort to lift the oppressive mood that had settled in the room, he attempted a weak joke, "Aw Sammy, me for you? That's a bargain in my book. Blue light special, right?"

The attempt only caused the younger man's breath to hitch. "You're wrong. You are worth so much more to me."

Dean pulled his brother into a tight embrace, saying, "You too, Sammy. You too."

For long minutes the two brothers held on to each other with everything they had. When they finally did decide to break away, Sam's tears had been reduced to sniffles. And instead of the sorrow, a serious expression had settled there. "Dean, I want you to promise me something." Dean's quiet expectant expression encouraged him to go on. "Promise that if it ever came down to you trading your life for mine, that you won't. That you will do everything in your power to stay alive, no matter what."

"Sammy, you know I ca-"

"Promise me, Dean. Cause I couldn't live with myself if I knew you sacrificed yourself for me." Dean looked about ready to protest, desperate Sam resorted to drastic measures. Means he isn't proud of but demanded results. "Promise me, Dean, or I walk out that door right now and I won't come back."

"You'd do that Sammy, to _me_? After everything that's happened? You'd walk out. _Again?_"

And how that one little word cut Sam to the core. Yes he had walked out on his family 4 years ago, but he believed they would look out for each other. He was wrong. And if Dean couldn't see what he saw, he would have to make him. "If it means you would look out for yourself for a change, then yes."

A flash of deeply rooted pain flickered in the hazel depths of his brother, but Sam couldn't back down. "I don't want to walk away Dean. I missed you. But dammit, I don't want you trading your life for mine. Promise me, Dean."

Narrowing his eyes, Dean countered, "Only if you promise me that you'll look out for yourself too. Even if I'm not there. And if you ever need help, you ask me. And I'll come. I promise."

"Deal."

- S- P – N – S – P – N-

Yes, this really is an update. You are not hallucinating. I hope this nice, long chapter makes up for my nice, long absence. Hehe. That past year had definitely been a crazy one for my family and even more so over the past few months. But all good things! We got out from under the 50 ton elephant on our backs and completed a short sale on our house back in Dec. Moved for the first time in 6 years to a new place. Auditioned for Shirley Markowitz in the Local Theatre's production of the Producers and got it! It was such an awesome show. I loved every second of it! And I make some friends too. And with one of my new friends we are gearing up to start a new biz together, which should be a lot of fun!

Even better news for you all is that I have finally finished my draft of this story so I can post steadily again until the end – which is just 7 more chapters! I have decided to post on Wednesdays now, since I need a Supernatural fix to fill the space until the new season starts. So please review and I will reply. And you have permission to yell at me if I am late on a chapter here on out. I have no excuse and deserve what I get.

For those of you who have stuck with me thus far, thank you again for your infinite patience! Much love for you all. Thanks to all for reading. Please let me know how I'm doing even if it's just a word or two. Those reviews feed a writer's soul! If not, I appreciate all the faves and follows! And don't worry I recognize those lurkers out there too. Love me some Story stats! Lol.

Lastly, no shout outs for last chapter, so I will respond to the few signed reviews I got back then during Ghost Hunters tonight. Oh and just a quick FYI, I have posted 3 One-shot stories over the past few months too. If you have a mo, please check them out on my Profile. I would greatly appreciate the feedback! May the blessings of life rain upon you.

Until next Wednesday…

~Ari :D


	24. Copy Cat Agenda

"Sam." A distinctly female voice whispered in his ear.

"Jess?"

"No, sleepy." The other giggled.

Sam opened his eyes to find Jenn crouched down next to him. "Jenn." It took a moment for his memory to catch up. After the vow the brothers made to each other, they had fallen into companionable banter until lunch arrived, which caused a new round of teasing. Dean always hated bland, plain, non-fatty Hospital food and Sam couldn't resist gloating when the nurse brought him some almost passable healthy food from the cafeteria.

Once they were done with lunch, the nurse came back and administered another round of pain meds that soon sent the boys into a healing slumber. How long had they been sleeping he wondered and glanced toward the windows to find the sun slowly setting. "Hey, what took you guys so long? Thought you said we'd meet back here after you were done with the door."

"Um, yeah, well…" She glanced sheepishly over her shoulder to the Marshal leaning against the closed door.

Patrick stepped further into the room as he answered Sam's question. "By the time we finished buying the items we needed and then fixing the door, it was already pretty late and we were exhausted. We thought you two might want to be alone for a while too. It's been a crazy few days."

Frowning, Sam glanced at his watch. "But it's almost 6 o'clock."

"We may as well tell them," Jenn shrugged as she stood up. "They're gonna find out eventually, if it works."

"Find out what?" Dean joined the conversation. He had roused from the voices. Out of the corner of his eye, he quickly checked over his brother, who was apparently doing the same of him.

Jenn missed the non-verbal exchange and continued nervously, "Look, you have to understand that all this is highly irregular and what we're trying to do may backfire, but it's the only thing we can come up with that's even remotely credible."

Curious by the 'disclaimer,' Sam asked, "What exactly are you guys trying to do?"

The pair looked at each other for a moment, sharing a silent conversation of their own. In the end it was Jenn who continued, "Well, you know that I've been working in Law for a while now, even though I'm not exactly an Attorney. And Pat's been dealing with all types of criminals as well, as a Marshal. We both have a basic understanding of Criminal Psychology, including profiling. And we've both seen some pretty bizarre cases."

"You want to get to the point lady before my head spins right off my shoulders," Dean chimed in.

"Sorry," she blushed. "Just really nervous about what we're doing here. Anyway, we did kinda figure out the mindset of this Shifter-thing and well he still falls in line with other profiles of Serial Killers, even if he was a monster. Of course that didn't solve the issue that a handful of men were being imprisoned for crimes they didn't commit. So Pat and I started brainstorming and discussing 'Copy Cat' Killers. Now sometimes, a 'Copy Cat' Killer is someone who idolized other killers and copies their methods and history. However, rarely there are 'Copy Cat' killers who mimic the lives of their prey before committing the murders. A twisted sort of Identity Mental Disorder. Of course, they can't really ever change into their victims so it's easy to figure it all out in the end."

Patrick picked up the explanation, "Obviously, in this case, this Shifter thing is far from normal and has the ability to exactly mimic its prey, which is why even the circumstantial evidence in these cases is so damning for the victims. So we've been working out a way to point the finger back to this 'Copy Cat' instead of the victims and clear everyone's name."

"How?" The brother's asked simultaneously, with equal amounts of disbelief and curiosity.

Sighing, again the pair shared another look. Patrick grimaced slightly as he answered. "Well, it's complicated, which we're hoping will be enough to stop people from digging too deep and finding any holes in our plan, especially since the case will be closed almost immediately upon discovery of the body."

Now Sam was baffled. "What body? We burned the Shifter last night."

It was the Marshal's turn to look a little sheepish. "Well, the cadaver should be arriving sometime after midnight tonight once it's been prepped. Along with that and all the other evidence we are planting, we should have a pretty solid case against this thing."

"Are you as lost as I am Sammy, because I'm not seeing how all this is going to help us." Dean's deep baritone grumbled with annoyance. He crossed his arms, ignoring the pang in his chest, and leaned back in the bed glaring at the two conspirators.

Sam didn't answer. His mind raced through all the information he was being fed and tried to make sense of it. In all the years their family had been hunting, they couldn't rely on 'outsiders' and often left sticky messes for local law officials to clean up when they finished with a job. Law enforcement was a good cover for the personas they would don to interview people and get to the bottom of what supernatural beast was causing people trouble. Their family had always considered them useless and inept at their jobs, unable to see the truth. And now one was standing there working to exonerate them? It seemed unreal.

Taking another step closer so that he was just at the end of Dean's bed, Pat lowered his voice. "In this case, I guess it's good that I've done a few extreme Protective Custody cases in which we had to fake a few deaths. I have friends in high enough places that I can get a cadaver with no identifying marks that vaguely fits the description of most of the victims. A cadaver that comes complete with a bullet from my gun that validates my testimony of Sam finding me in the sewers and that we hunted the thing down who had the real _you_ (he pointed at Dean) tied up in your own hotel room. Which is, for the most part the truth. However the bullet they find in the fake corpse will be a regular bullet, not silver. We can work on the exact details later so that our stories match when we talk to the detectives."

The bothers sat there for a moment absorbing the information. Dean's incredulous scrutiny demanded answers. "That's great and all, but how exactly are you going to convince them that some mangled corpse managed to pass off as me and five other guys who couldn't exactly pass for twins?"

"Jenn," Patrick looked to the PR Rep.

"Well, that's my part of the plan." She explained. "When it comes to making sure what information is 'leaked' or not to the Media, I get to be hands on. I also get access to some of the Forensic and Medical Research departments that are working on the cases. I've made a few friends in quite a few areas. There was an arson case that I worked, which involved a number of burn victims. When we try and determine the collateral damage of each victim's case we also look into traditional and experimental research on ways to help the victims recover, both mentally and physically."

Taking a deep breath, Jenn continued, "Anyway, during that case, I had been in long conversations with a young man who was looking to have a breakthrough on a genetically synthesized skin that could be used to graft with the owners real skin and cosmetically replace the damaged tissue. The problem was it was not very stable and in the end could not fully replace the burn victim's skin permanently. The regenerative properties of skin are just too complex. It was never approved.

"However, because of its organic nature and the ability to be genetically molded, if necessary, Hollywood took a brief interest in it. Or what I should say is the Cosmetic world of Hollywood, anyway. They were going to use it as a way to replace prosthetic make-up which is more breathable than foam rubber or silicone or anything else they use and because it behaves like real skin make-up application would be easier and more believable while being comfortable for actors to wear.

"Unfortunately, it came with too high a price tag and there were other problems with it too. It could only be used once or twice before it started to deteriorate and eventually become a gooey mess. Which incidentally, does look a little similar to the Shifter's shed skin." She huffed as she finished and threw her hands out in a 'and that's the whole story' kind of gesture.

"That's incredible," Sam managed to utter while trying to understand all this new information.

"You said it, brother." Dean chipped in.

"Jenn's friend is flying in right now with the materials he needs to grow some of these weird skin 'masks' that we are going to plant in the sewer. He's going to use the DNA samples we pulled off the victims to match what we found in the crime scenes. And from what Dean and I know, he used dead cells from our clothes to match our DNA. Same can be used for this genetic stuff. It's a hard process but it is doable. The samples we leave in the sewers don't have to be perfect, just believable enough to pass initial testing." Patrick helpfully added.

Sam's mind was starting to head into overdrive as he processed everything. And for every answer thre were a hundred more questions to be asked. If this was going to work, they needed all bases covered. "But if this stuff isn't common knowledge how did the 'Shifter' know about it and get hold of it?"

Jenn crossed her fingers and shrugged. "That will have to fall into the speculation part of this story. Since we can't _identify_ the corpse for who he really is, then we can only guess as to how he got hold of it. Could be a twisted guy from the Make-up world in Hollywood. An angry Research person. Who knows. And who cares. As long as the cops have a murder suspect and the suspect can't counter otherwise, the case should be closed out with little investigation."

"And it should also clear the names of everyone it tried to frame as well, seeing that the evidence against them is circumstantial and their alibi's have been pretty solid to support that despite their conviction." Pat cleared his throat and glanced between the brothers nervously. "The only thing this case won't be able to do is clear all Dean's priors as well as the fact he impersonated a Federal Agent. Not sure if I'll be able to do anything about those. But perhaps Sam and Jenn can work together on those charges through legitimate methods."

Smiling at Dean, Jenn agreed, "I think we can get Dean Acquitted for the Federal Agent charge since it is in direct correlation with the Murder Charges. But all the other Priors will have to be brought up on separate charges and tried later. We should have plenty of time to build a case and possible work a plea bargain since they all seem relatively minor otherwise."

Dean grunted. "They can only charge me if they catch me."

"And how exactly are you going to run away, Dean," Sam argued. "It's not like you'll be walking around anytime soon with that leg."

"This wouldn't be the first time I signed out AMA. But I'm not staying here, I've got a job to do and Dad's still out there somewhere."

"Well, you're not leaving without me. You can come back with me to Stanford so I can look out for you until you're better."

As much as Sam's declaration was heartwarming, Dean had one other major concern. "I'm not leaving my baby here either."

"We'll drive it back together," Sam reassured his brother.

"Good, now that that's all settled. Let's check out of this joint." Dean started pushing himself off the bed but didn't make it very far.

Sam was right there pushing him back. "Nu uh. Not so fast. We aren't going anywhere until the Doc gives us the results of the MRI."

Displeased with Dean's desired exodus, the Marshal crossed his arms and stood at full height at the end of the wounded warrior's bed. "Besides, this story won't break until tomorrow morning earliest. If you try to leave now, you'll be arrested. My protection only works while you're in this room."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"Well, with all the injuries Dean was checking in with, there would have been an automatic call to the local law enforcement no matter what story you fed them. But I was able to pull rank and kept them quiet due to the pending investigation."

"How'd you manage that?" Sam questioned at the same time Dean demanded, "What investigation?"

"I exaggerated the truth. Told them that there was some questionable conduct in the local station and that I had control over the prisoner while it was being looked into. Right now, Sam, Jenn and I are the only visitors allowed and only a secured staff has been assigned to take care of you. So until the story hits, you're staying here."

"Great," Dean groused. "I don't like being trapped."

Attempting to soothe the older man, Sam reasoned, "It's just for one more day. Then we'll head back to California."

"Sit tight, kid." Patrick added. "You could do with the rest. God knows you deserve it."

There was an awkward silence the settled over the room for a minute. Each person collected their thoughts and allowed the tension to slowly dissipate. When she felt it safe again, Jenn cleared her throat, "Well, we only stopped in briefly to see if there was anything we could get you. We have to head to the airport in about an hour and set everything up. We probably won't get a chance to see you again until the media frenzy begins." She then glanced conspiratorially to Dean. "There's a Five Guys about a block away."

The brilliant smile that slowly overpowered Dean's previously sour mood was dazzling.

Within 15 minutes, Jenn and Pat had returned from a quick food run, bringing Dean a burger and fries and Sam a Salad from a Chik-fil-A on the way back to the Hospital. They also brought a duffle of clothes for the brothers. Together the four ate and worked out all the details and information of their cover story for the plan to work. It was amazing how quickly they hammered through everything and still managed to leave on time to go the airport. The couple took the evidence of their meal with them when they left.

Once again the brother's were alone. Still skeptical yet pleasantly fed, Dean sat back in his bed. "Dude, if this plan works, this will be a first for the Winchesters. Killing the monster _and_ getting innocent people cleared too. Awesome."

"We lucked out on this one, Dean. Patrick's turning out to be a valuable asset."

"Don't forget your little PR now. Too bad we don't get paid. It might be handy to have a PR working on our image. After all, we're heroes, it would be nice to be treated like one."

"I think your ego is inflated enough."

There was a gentle rap on the door before it opened. Dr. Favreau slipped inside. "Hello Dean, Sam."

"Doctor."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop in earlier, but I figured you would like to get the results of the MRI tonight."

The pair exchanged a meaningful look. Then Dean locked eyes with the doctor. "Well, Doc, how bad is it?"

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

I told you! I promised weekly posts again and I'm doing it. Yeah! Now before anyone asks, I am not in law or cosmetics or PR even, so all the stuff in this chap is plucked from my warped imagination to sound as plausible as possible for our boys. So please forgive me. It's just I always felt bad when they got blamed for anything the monsters did. So I had to resolve that in my own way.

Anywho, once again, thank you all for reading. A review would be really, really awesome! But don't worry, I accept anything; faves, hits, Dean shipped to my house for my birthday (hint, hint; nudge, nudge; wink, wink.) Either way, I love you all.

No shout outs again. :( And I will send replies later today. Looking forward to next week!

~Ari :D


	25. Fixed to be Broken

"Well, Dean, the good news is that you didn't tear through the ACL completely."

Sam looked hopeful. "That means it could heal naturally without surgery, right?"

Dean watched the physician carefully. "You said that was the _good news_. So what's the _bad_ news?"

"The MRI did show some bruising to the bones as well as some damage to both meniscuses." The information hung heavily in the air. The two brothers glanced at each other trying to figure out exactly what it meant. With a deep sigh, the doctor forged ahead. "Based upon my prior observations of your medical history, it is my recommendation that you undergo reconstructive surgery."

Dr. Favreau always marveled how different people picked up on different aspects whenever he imparted his prognosis to patients and their families. And the reactions here were typical.

Immediately, Dean started shaking his head. "No. Not gonna happen, doc."

Whereas Sam started his rapid fire questions. "What do you mean _observations of his medical history_? What kind of reconstructive surgery? When should it be done? How long will it take to recover? Does it have to be here?"

The elder man held up a hand to stall out Sam's questions. "Look, I understand. The thought of surgery is scary for a lot of people. And we will cover all your questions, one at a time."

But Dean put his metaphorical foot down. "No, we won't because it's not gonna happen. I'm not doing it."

"Dean," Sam looked pleadingly at his brother.

"Please, hear me out," the good doctor continued. "I was already aware of your aversion to the procedure from our prior conversation and took that into consideration. But I'm standing by my recommendation. You may not have provided me with a detailed medical history, but I've been doing this long enough to read it fairly well just on observation."

Taking another deep breath, he pressed on, "Dean, I have no idea what you do for a living, but if I had to guess it would be something along the lines of a professional fighter. Your musculature is well formed and solid with numerous signs of previous trauma and injuries. Same goes for your skeletal structure. There have been a number of factures and breaks, with some healed properly while a few not as clean. And your scars can tell a story of their own. It is quite obvious that you are very active physically.

"Based upon that information and your stubborn desire to get 'back to the job' tells me that you are not planning on changing your lifestyle any time soon. In most cases, natural healing of an ACL tear, even a partial one is only recommended for those who do not lead an active lifestyle, so far as to say people who do very little kneeling and bending. Even moderate activity would suggest surgery. But with your lifestyle, I can see no other alternative, providing you want to regain full motion with that knee and lower the chances of re-injury, pain and instability. Ultimately though, it is your decision, Dean."

Sam glanced at his brother, who appeared to be weighing everything out in his mind. Looking up at the physician, he inquired, "If we were to go through with it, when would it be done?"

"Oh, not for a week at best. I would first wait until the swelling has gone down. We could even push it out for a few months if necessary. And there are more things we would need to consider before choosing which procedure to go through with. Some are more invasive than others and some have faster recovery times but in all forms of surgery there are also risks that need to be taken into account as well. I'll have the nurse bring in some information on the different procedures for you to review along with the possible after effects and recovery. Either way, natural or not, Physical Therapy will be required for at least 3 months and is your best option for _full_ recovery. I would like for you to begin PT before the end of this week. Nothing too strenuous, but the sooner you start the better."

"This just keeps getting better and better," Dean muttered unhappily.

Sam ignored his stubborn sibling. "You mentioned a faster recovery time? What is that procedure?"

"I'd still put full recovery at about 3 months, but it's less time to recover from the surgery itself. It's a relatively newer process where we take the graft from a cadaver instead of another area on the patient to replace the torn ACL. The incisions would be relatively small which helps. The damage to the meniscuses is secondary and resulting from continued use of the damaged leg. They should be able to repair themselves via PT and natural healing."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Well, I think I've filled your heads with enough to think about. We can discuss this more once you've had an opportunity to read through the information and discuss it with each other. Have a good night." And the elder man left the boys alone.

After a moment of quiet, Dean looked to his baby brother with a sour expression, "Well he did manage to give us some good news after all."

"Yeah and what's that?"

"We can still get out of here tomorrow." The smirk at the corner of Dean's mouth had Sam shaking his head in disbelief. Of course Dean would be gearing to get out.

Now all Sam had to do was convince Dean to stay with him in Stanford, have the surgery and commit to the Rehab the Therapist prescribed. He was not looking forward to the monumental task in front of him. But first things first, they would have to escape as soon as the news broke tomorrow.

- S – P – N –

"Why won't you even consider it?" Exasperated, Sam demanded of his brother.

"Do you really need an explanation?" Dean countered incredulously. When his brother gave him a wide-eyed 'Yes!' look, he sighed and continued, "Who's going to pay for it? You? Let alone the fact we don't have time to wait around for it? We're leaving today. And once you're back safe at Stanford, I'm going back to look for Dad."

"Dean, you are in no condition to go off on your own right now."

"Hey, I've been managing _on my own_ for the better part of three years," the older man bitterly reminded, "And I'll be fine again."

As much as Dean's verbal slap hurt Sam, it hurt worse knowing that the man's reaction was merely a defense mechanism, a way to keep reality at bay. Because written in the bruises and cuts on his brother's body, along with the numerous scars littering his skin, it was painfully clear to Sam that Dean would not be 'fine' on his own. "That's just the problem." Some of the fight drained out of Sam. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before looking up at his brother. "Dean, you really haven't managed very well on your own."

"How would you know? You weren't there!" The older Winchester huffed, his arms gesticulating since he was still unable to pace. "I'm still alive, aren't I? I'd say that's proof enough."

"Being alive and being ok are two different things. You've said it yourself, things haven't gone well between you and dad. And there have been a few hunts that have gone south. You said you…" Sam's words ground to a halt as his mind tried differentiating who exactly had told him what, his brother or the shifter using his brother's face. So instead of using specific examples, he simply asked another question, "How many visits have you made to a Hospital since I left for Stanford?

"That's not fair. Hunting's a rough gig. No one ever gets through a hunt without something to show for it."

"Yes, they do. It may not be the norm but not every hunt ends with cuts and bruises. And there were plenty of hunts when we were kids that I walked out of unscathed." Dean stumbled to form a rebuttal but Sam kept talking. "Of course, that only happened because my stubborn, idiotic, over protective and over bearing brother somehow managed to get between me and whatever monster we were facing and take out whatever came our way."

"That was my job, Sammy. I was supposed to protect you."

"Well, how about protecting yourself, huh? There was more than just me out there you know."

"I watched Dad's back too."

"That's not what I meant, Dean. You took care of me and dad all the time. It was only when you were too far gone that we did the same for you. Like when you were too banged up or were so sick you couldn't move. And I'm not going to let that happen anymore. You're going to have this surgery, Dean."

"Like hell I am. This isn't your decision, Sam. You don't get a vote."

"Actually I think my vote should count more than yours right now."

"How d'ya figure that?" Dean scoffed.

"Well, I figure that the deciding vote goes to whomever values your health most. And from your lack of self-preservation I would say that right now, I value your well being more than you."

"That's bullshit. I always fight to win, Sammy."

"Again, fighting to win and fighting for your self are two separate things. I know you'll do whatever it takes to take the bad guy down, but there are different ways to accomplish that. A sane person would find a way to stop the creature without opening themselves up to injury. But you, you've accepted the losses already and are willing to pile on the pain and guilt and whatever else you think you need to place on your shoulders to get the job done. The problem is that you can't keep propping up the world when you can't even stand. Metaphorically or physically."

"I can stand. And I don't carry the world on my shoulders. And sane people can worry about how to take things down easy because they're dealing with humans. In case you haven't noticed Sammy, the world _we_ live in isn't quite sane. They would go _in_sane if they knew half the crap we know."

"That may be true but even most insane people don't go head first into dangerous situations practically looking for trouble."

"I don't look for trouble."

"Maybe, but you sure as hell don't run away from it either. You still haven't answered my question about how many hospital visits you've made over the past 3 years."

"It's not like I keep track." Dean snapped.

"How many hunts you go on in that time? Either solo or with dad?"

"I don't know, maybe a hundred?"

"And did you go to the hospital after each one?"

"No!"

"Should you have?"

"No, Sam. You know, the way you make it sound, you would think I'm some kind of bumbling idiot. I can cope, with or without you and Dad."

"And you call this coping then?" Sam gestured to Dean sweeping slightly as if to encompass his full body. "Lying in a hospital bed refusing treatment that is pertinent to your lifestyle. Dean, this isn't a cold or some disease you can cure with some pills. This is your knee and your ability to maneuver properly. If not treated now, you could cause further injury later. You think the monsters are going to wait around for you to get up if your leg gives out on you again?" Sam knew his questions would hurt his brother, but he needed Dean to see reason. So he would make it absolutely clear why he had to go through with the surgery. Taking a deep breath, he went for the jugular. "You think you can save the next innocent child from a horrible death if you can't catch up or get away because of a bum knee? If you can't do your job, then you've no business doing it. Your life isn't the only one on the line if you fail. You willing to play those odds?"

Dean could feel each and every word Sam said pierce his heart. _Damn the kid._ Sam managed to hit every fear he had. And deep down he knew his little brother was right. This kind of injury could bite him in the ass again someday if he didn't take care of it. Could he risk innocent lives to save himself from embarrassment, pain and failure? It's not like he hadn't gone through surgery before, so why couldn't he just suck it up and deal?

_Dad._ A voice whispered in the back of his mind. His Dad had already been missing for months and the trail was Arctic cold now. But Dean was worried about their father. He had to keep searching. And being stuck in one place wasn't going to find their father any faster. Thousands of horrible scenarios continuously ran through the back of his mind. Many of which had John Winchester hurt and trapped waiting for Dean to save him. And Dean wasn't there, not even close. Instead he was stuck in another hospital, forced to wait.

"I can't stay here, Sam." He whispered through constricted vocal chords. His voice once more timid and soft.

Sam wasn't expecting the abrupt change in his brother. He was still preparing for the anger Dean was supposed to throw his way. But Dean had gone from indignant fury to broken spirit in the spans of a heartbeat. The transformation hit Sam hard. "You don't have to, Dean."

"I…" Dean faltered searching for the words to express the crux of emotion and worry bubbling beneath the surface. "You're right. I haven't done things on my own so well. Even with Dad, things haven't worked out so great. But I need to find him, Sam. I need to know he's ok. He hasn't been gone this long before and it scares the shit out of me. I'm worried, Sam."

"And I am too, Dean. Really. But you can't help him if you aren't 100%. You have to take care of yourself first, then we'll find him."

Sea-washed eyes searched his face, gauging the sincerity of his brother's words. Dean questioned, "We?"

"Yes, we. You're stuck with me, Dean. I'm not letting you go through this on your own. And when you're better, we'll both go look for dad. Okay?"

"What about school? I thought you were out of this life?"

"Let me worry about school, I've got some time to figure it all out yet. Right now, I've got a brother to take care of. And if that means we have to do the occasional hunt then I guess we do it, together." Sam smiled.

"And your girlfriend?"

"She'll finally get answers to some questions she's always wanted. Then we'll see how well she'll handle the rest."

"Don't hold your breath, Sammy. Speaking from experience, I wouldn't bank on her being cool with all this. Probably think you're buckets of crazy. If you want to keep normal, put me up in a room somewhere and keep up the pretense. Otherwise, kiss your apple pie life good-bye."

Sam watched his brother for a moment. They had touched on this subject before. It was just so hard for Sam to imagine his brother wanting something other than hunting even for a little while. He wanted to say that Jess would be different, that she would understand. But truth be told, he wasn't sure. And the forlorn expression on his brother's face kept him from uttering false assurances regarding Jess. So he decided to respond to Dean's pain.

"She missed out on a great guy then."

Dean laughed bitterly. "Yeah, whatever."

"I mean it, Dean. Your biggest fault is also your greatest strength."

"Oh sure, Dr. Phil. You don't have to go rubbing my failures in my face."

"I'm not. I'm just saying the she's the loser here. You're a great guy. You are compassionate and caring. You probably would have done anything for her. She just didn't know how good she had it with you."

"Stop it, Sam. You're edging too close to chick-flick territory. I can already hear the musak playing in the background. And it sucks."

It was Sam's turn to laugh. "Fine. But this isn't over. We will talk about what happened while I was away eventually."

"Keep dreaming, kiddo. You've already got more out of me than I planned to share."

"I don't care. I missed out on part of your life, and I plan to find out what I missed."

"You didn't miss much, really."

Sam was about to counter with the fact that both Dean and the shifter eluded to a lot more and he wasn't about to give up until he found out, when the door to their room flung open.

Automatically, Sam stood to greet Becky who came rushing in. The blonde glanced nervously between the brothers. Sam asked with concern, "Becky, what's wrong?"

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Wow, Wednesday already?! Amazing how time flies. Couple of quick notes, I promise. I know nothing about medical jargon and practices, only what I read on the internet (which has to be true because they can't put anything on the internet that isn't true, right?) Anyway, so if I got some of my info wrong, my apologies. Please feel free to correct me if necessary. Otherwise, take it all with a grain of salt – or maybe just put down a salt line. Either way works for me.

Hmmm, I've seemed to forgotten what else I wanted to say. Oh well. I still haven't received any Dean's for my birthday, but it's still a few weeks away – you've got time. ;) And if you are looking for another Sam and Dean fix, feel free to check out my one shots; _Cruise Control_ and _A Loving Heart_. I know, shameless plug, sorry.

My love to all of you who have read, reviewed, and favorited this epic of mine! You guys rock!

Until next week!

~Ari :D


	26. AMA

"Sam," Becky cried, tears glistening in her eyes as she flung herself on the taller Winchester. Baffled, Sam looked to his brother. "Thank you!" She squeezed him tighter then released him. Turning to look at Dean, there was some hesitation before she added, "And thank you too."

Now both brothers were completely confused. "Uh, you're welcome, Becky." Sam answered. "But what are you thanking us for?"

"You haven't heard the news? It's all over the TV." She grabbed for the remote from one of the tables and turned on the small set up in the corner of the room.

"..ice are referring to the murderer as a Copy Cat killer. We will talk with David Heeler right after the break, who will be reporting live from the Precinct where local authorities have found and killed the serial killer who has affected countless lives with his crimes. This is Amanda Blessing of Channel 4 news. Continuing coverage of this breaking news when we come back." A series of commercials followed. Becky huffed and put the set on mute.

"They caught the guy who killed Emily. The Police said they are going to re-open all the cases they think were connected to this chameleon killer and probably clear their names, including Zach's."

"That's great, I'm glad to hear that Zach will be free soon. But why thank us?"

"You're lady friend and some Marshal showed up this morning and explained what happened last night and how you were both instrumental in finding this shapeshifter. Now that it is dead, I was free to go home and wait for Zach's release. They told me you were in the hospital and I had to come see you."

"Shapeshifter?" Dean spoke for the first time, his eyes bouncing between Becky and Sam. "You know it was a shapeshifter?"

Sam looked sheepishly at his brother. "Yeah, I kind of explained it when I was looking for you."

Becky met Dean's eyes and she forced a smile. "I'm sorry, it's still really hard to differentiate you from the creature in my mind. But I can see you were just as much a victim as I was. I'm sorry he got you too. But I'm also very grateful that you and Sam were able to stop it. I don't know what would have happened to Zach if you hadn't."

"All in a day's work." Dean smirked.

"Well, I got to go. I need to make some arrangements to have the house cleaned. My parents should be back tomorrow. I don't want them to see the mess that monster made." She hugged Sam once more and patted Dean's leg. "Thanks again."

"See ya around, Becky."

"Yeah, I'll let you know if Zach and I decide to go back to school or not. See ya."

After the door clicked closed behind her, the brothers shared a meaningful glance. A silent conversation passed between them. Then Dean reached for the remote and un-muted the TV.

Together the pair watched the latest news reports that were trickling in about the Chameleon Killer. About an hour later, a Police Officer came to take the boy's official statements. As soon as they were done, Dean started pestering for AMA papers. He was ready to leave.

-SPN-

Unfortunately for Dean, Dr. Favreau anticipated his request and left strict orders not to release Dean until they had spoken. While they waited Dean prepared for his imminent departure much to Sam's annoyance. But the younger Winchester's tune changed when a reporter tried forcing an interview. How the reporter managed to figure out they were involved, they didn't know. But it didn't matter.

It was time to leave and still they were trapped. Even more so since the Officer was posted at the door for their 'protection.' Based upon their Police interview, it was apparent that Dean's heroic efforts to help take out the chameleon killer were not enough to wipe his slate clean.

The Winchesters were in the midst of planning their breakout when the door opened. Dr. Favreau regarded the duo before perching down on the edge of Dean's bed. He noted that his patient was sitting on top of the sheets, back in street clothes and looking extremely unhappy. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Had an emergency earlier today that kept me tied up til now."

"Well, I'm ready to go, doc. Mind giving me my papers?" Dean demanded.

"I held you up for a reason, Dean. I need an answer before I let you leave this hospital."

"You said I have time before I have to make a decision. That you wouldn't do anything until the swelling was down any way. Why do you need one?"

"Because I want to give you a treatment plan, but I can't do that unless I know what you plan to do. And I'm not talking about surgery and recovery, I'm talking about meds and physical therapy too. I had planned to have you start PT at the end of this week, but with you leaving I know that won't happen."

"Yeah, well, we got places to be."

"So what I would like to do is provide you with a treatment plan that you can take to your regular doctor. I can include it with our discharge papers or I can forward it if you provide me with the Practice information and your Primary Care Physician's name."

Scoffing, Dean began, "Well, that's not going to be possible…"

"Yet, because we have to set one up once we get back home." Sam interrupted his brother.

"So you'll be heading out of state then?" Dr. Favreau directed his question to the younger Winchester.

"Yeah, I'm going to take care of him until he can get back on his feet, literally. So we'll be heading back to Stanford. Once I get him added to my insurance and we set up a PCP, I can have them contact you to get the file. Would that be ok?"

"That would work. But I'm still going to prep some prescriptions and give you some exercises you can do to help strengthen that knee until you can see your doctor. I'll get everything drawn up and have the nurse bring it in."

Both brothers thanked the doctor who remained where he was. Curious, Dean asked, "Something else you wanted to say, doc?"

"I was wondering if I could speak with you privately, Dean."

Glancing at his brother, Dean decided they had enough time away. "What's on your mind?" Sam settled in his chair, his attention on the doctor.

Emry sighed. He knew that the material he wanted to discuss was very private. But he could also see the resolution in both men that they were staying. Submitting to Dean's implied permission, he forged ahead. "Dean, I would like to offer you my professional opinion to further supplement treatment regarding your experiences here as well as previous trauma."

"You wanna run that by me again in English?"

"I've worked ER for many years and I've seen a lot of horrific things. And in assault cases we are required to be very thorough to avoid missing pertinent information that could be used during an investigation. As an organization, we do not make any assumptions toward lifestyle and sexual preference even though we may be required to document our observations.

"Mr. Winchester, we have eluded to your occupation previously and while our assumptions have neither been confirmed nor denied, we can only speculate on our observations. It is often best to compile as much data as possible to fully treat our patients in all aspects. And though you are not required to disclose anything, I would like to ask you a few questions. I won't force an answer but I would also appreciate as much honesty as you are willing to give."

As Dr. Favreau spoke, Sam noticed Dean's complexion get whiter and whiter. And from what he was gathering the man was trying to gently imply, Sam could feel his own face drain of color.

Dean's voice was low and quiet. "What kind of questions?"

"Just a few standard questions. Would you prefer to continue in private?"

_Yes!_ Dean wanted to scream, but he could see the look on his little brother's face. There was no way he was getting Sam out of the room. Besides, even if he did manage it, Sam would pester him until he told him what they discussed. May as well get it all over at once, like ripping off a band-aid. "Shoot, doctor."

Clearing his throat, he focused on his patient. "Ok, can you please provide your occupation?"

"Mechanic." Dean responded. But Favreau regarded him with disbelieving eyes. Still, as promised the doctor didn't push.

"Do you participate in any extreme sports or hobbies?"

"Hunting. The occasional bar fight."

"Drugs or Alcohol?"

"No, and yes. Have a beer now and then, nothing too extreme."

"Good. Now please answer as truthfully as you can. These next few questions can be rough. I'm not here to judge you, Dean. I just need to assess how best to help you. Understand?" Dean gave a slow, jerky nod. "As a child, have you ever been abused physically?"

"Our father never laid a finger on us." Dean ground out. Suddenly he felt like he was twelve again talking with Social Services.

"That's good to hear, but that still doesn't answer my question."

"We moved around a lot as kids. Got into a couple fights. Sucks always being the new kid."

Once again, Dr. Favreau considered his charge thoughtfully. After a pregnant moment, he pressed on, "And as an adult, you ever deal with any type of physical abuse?"

Dean glared daggers at the man. "No," he bit out through clenched teeth.

"Easy, Dean, I told you, I'm not here to judge. Let's move on, shall we? Have you ever been tested for HIV or other STD's?"

"Yes, negative."

"Good." Then with as much sympathy and understanding he could convey, Emry asked, "Would you like us to run the tests again, in light of recent events?"

At this question, Dean could feel Sam's startled gaze watching him. But he didn't turn to look at him. Instead, he simply answered, "No." Sam's subsequent sigh told Dean they would have a conversation about this again later. He wasn't looking forward to it.

"Last question, Dean." Emry cleared his throat and softened his tone just a touch more. He chose his words carefully, knowing from past experience that men in general do not react well to this particular inquiry. And he imagined with such a strong and dominating personality as Dean had, his reaction could be more volatile than most. "Uh hmm, yes, uh, Dean, your recent intimate relationships, were any of them un-welcomed or un-solicited?"

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Dean sprung up from the bed practically growling, "No." But the tremor that coursed through his body – that had nothing to do with his knee – provided a clearer answer.

Sadly, the Doctor nodded. He held up a placating hand, which only infuriated the older Winchester further, along with his false sympathy. "It' ok, Dean. There's n-"

"I said nothing happened!" Dean protested vehemently. "No one did anything to me. I'm fine."

Emry continued to talk his patient away from the virtual edge with a smooth and gentle tone. "We believe you, Dean. Nothing happened."

But hearing the empty words hurt more than Dean expected. It was ok for him to lie; to protect those around him from the truth when he knew the truth would only hurt them. To cushion the blow with half truths. To say words that were hollow even though deep down they all knew. To be on the receiving end of such artificial concern was new to Dean. And it felt wrong. The false words felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.

All the fight and anger washed away from the frigid cleansing. His legs threatened to fall out from under him. Desperately, he grabbed the edge of the bed and locked his good knee to keep him standing. A jolt of pain shot up his bad knee. Gasping, he clenched his eyes shut and focused on the rhythmic task of breathing.

From behind, Dean could hear Sam surge to his feet, his own name slipping worriedly from his brother's lips. Eyes closed, he could still sense his brother's towering figure hovering close but not daring to touch him. Dean wasn't sure if his brother's hesitation was because he worried he might not be welcomed or because Dean disgusted him. A shiver ran up his spine. He couldn't blame Sam if he the latter were true. He already hated himself, this would simply complete the circle. His brother would see him for what he truly was. Broken.

Another tense moment passed. And again, Sam softly called his brother. "Dean." So many emotions packed into the one word. Fear. Worry. Compassion. – _Pity._

_No!_ Dean's mind wanted to scream but he couldn't breathe. A frantic gulp for air, as he sucked in precious oxygen to fill his seized lungs. He couldn't accept Pity. Not from anyone. And especially not from Sam. He didn't deserve their pity. Not now. Not ever.

"Dean!" Sam shouted when he saw his brother struggling for breath. Unable to stand by and watch, he closed the distance between them and put his hands on his brother's shoulders. He needed the contact. To make sure his brother was there and would be all right.

A few steps away, Favreau was stunned by the sudden change of events. Perhaps his patient wasn't ready to leave yet. This could be the onset of a panic attack. And with Dean's stubbornness and strength, he knew he was not prepared to handle the situation by himself. Quickly, he announced, "I'll get help."

"No!" This time Dean managed to get the word past his lips. "Don't need help. I'm fine."

"No you're not, Dean," Sam fervently denied.

"I am, Sam." As if to prove his point, Dean took in a shuddering gulp of air, followed by a steadier breath. Then another. His body finding the rhythm easier now. Opening his eyes, he looked over his shoulder to his not-so-little brother and locked gazes. "I will be, Sammy, I will be."

"Are you sure?" The doctor asked as he took a hesitant step closer to the pair.

"Yes."

"And you're still planning on leaving?"

This time both brothers firmly answered, "Yes."

"So be it. I'll have the nurse finish drawing up the paperwork for you." Instead of stepping away from the brothers, he boldly took a step forward. "Dean, I do want to help you. I'm adding to my notes that you seek professional help to deal with the emotional trauma."

"I'm not crazy," Dean bit out. His head snapped around to glare daggers at the man.

Smiling wryly, Emry assured the young man. "I never said you were. It's just you have obviously been through a harrowing experience recently, as well as older trauma. Sometimes having an impartial ear to listen is the best medicine. I can't force you to go, but I strongly suggest it."

This time however, it was the taller Winchester who responded. "Noted, Doctor. And we will discuss it at length during our drive back to Stanford. In the meantime, how about those papers?"

"Of course." The doctor knew when he was dismissed and he also knew how to pick his battles. He got further in his conversation than he thought he would when he stepped in to the room. Perhaps he managed to slip something in there to help his patient. With his hand on the door, he hesitated. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Winchester. And take care of your brother, it is obvious that you mean the world to each other. It would be a shame to lose either of you." And with that he gave a quick nod of good-bye and left the boys.

The brothers glanced at each other awkwardly. The doctor's farewell had been both pointed and ambiguous at the same time. Which brother was he talking to exactly? The man's eyes had moved between them frequently as he spoke which made it harder to know who he was talking to. Silently, each decided to take the man's words to heart and left it at that.

Brow furrowed in worry, Sam urged his brother, "Why don't you sit back down until the papers arrive?"

"I think I've had enough sitting. I want out of this room." Dean glanced up at his brother. "I _need_ out of this room."

"Soon, man, soon."

Thoughtful silence fell over the room while the brother's held their positions. No more than ten minutes could have passed when Dean grumbled, "What's taking so long?"

"Dude, relax. This is a hospital, unless it's a real emergency nothing happens fast. Remember?"

"Whatever. They got 5 more minutes before I'm walking out that door, with or without those papers."

"Fine. Five more minutes," Sam agreed.

Suddenly, the door flew open and abruptly slammed shut again. Just inside, Jenn stood behind the Marshal watching the door with trepidation while Patrick glared at the boys, hurriedly, "It's time to go boys. Now!"

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, sorry for the late post! I hope you all enjoyed it. Sorry if anything is still a bit off. I didn't get a chance to really proof this chap at work because of a power outage. And I couldn't get to it until much later. Then I was fending off sleep. –yawn- Still am actually.

Either way, it's now posted. I wish everyone a Happy 4th tomorrow!

Until next week,

~Ari :D


	27. Escape

"W-what? Why?!" Sam stuttered.

"No time for that now. We have to move," the Marshal urged. Then quickly glanced over at Dean and smiled. "Glad to see you're all ready Dean, that makes this even easier."

"Wasn't exactly ready for you, ya know." Dean groused. "We were working on a plan to break out of here."

"And that's why I'm here. Now let's scoot." Patrick indicated the door behind him with his thumbs.

In a voice younger than he looked, Sam asked blankly, "What about Dean's paperwork?"

"Got it here," Jenn offered. She held up the folder she was clutching to her chest. "Now unless you boys want to stay here or check into a nice comfy cell at the station, I suggest you haul ass."

With the threat of two of their biggest fears looming over their heads, the Winchester's went into motion. Sam gathered their things then quickly moved in next to Dean to make sure his brother kept his feet under him. They shared a brief look and gave the tiniest of nods. Together they spoke. "Ready."

"Good." Patrick began, "now, when we leave, you need to move as calmly and as quickly as possible to the back stairwell. You are going to head down to the third floor. Head right, toward the enclosed bridge that connects the 2 buildings. Once you're across, go left and follow the hall around to get to the Parking lot access walkway. I've moved your car to the back corner of the first floor parking deck as far from prying eyes as possible. Go now and go quickly. We'll meet back at the hotel."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa. You're not coming with us?" Dean demanded.

"I need to block. Right now, I have the men watching your room taking care of some reporters that were trying to get in here hoping to get exclusive interviews with key witnesses. But they won't be gone long and I need to give you two as much lead time as I can. Jenn will get you to the stairwell, after that you're on your own until we meet at the hotel."

Curious, Sam asked, "Speaking of reporters, how do they even know we're in here and what we did."

At that Jenn smirked, "Oh an anonymous tip to the news stations may have helped them a bit. Just enough info to whet their appetites but not enough detail to really know who you guys are."

"Well, what about you guys? How are you going to explain our sudden disappearance?"

"Simple. Now that your cover's been breached, we need to move you until we can determine if there are any further developments to the story or any threats toward your safety. I have _arranged_ to have a couple of officers escort you away to another hospital."

Sam chimed right in, "Which we're not going to and -poof- we're missing but by then it'll be too late to track us down." The Winchesters easily figured out the ploy.

"Bingo. See you soon, boys." He glanced at the woman next to him and grinned. "Jenn." Then he cracked the door. "Ok, we're still clear. Go." Opening it fully, he ushered the group out and stood in the hall absorbing all the activity.

Jenn, Sam and Dean headed in the opposite direction. As they walked, Jenn noticed Dean's heavy limp but approved of his use of the Immobilizer. She still couldn't help but worry though. "You think you can make it to the car?"

Dean nodded firmly. "I've got the brace on. Besides, if it gets me out of this white washed hell hole, I'd crawl if I had to to get out. Capice, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, just be careful. Don't need you finding your way back here for any reason. Catch you boys on the flip side." She opened the door for them.

Shuffling past his co-worker, Sam mumbled a quick thanks. Dean acknowledged her with a single head bob. They were on the fifth floor, so only two flights down. Sam took a few steps down then waited for his brother to catch up. He was going to ensure his brother took things slowly with his battered body. After all, it wasn't just his knee Sam was worried about, but the countless other injuries Dean had sustained during his ordeal.

Just as Dean reached the top of the steps, Jenn added, "Stay safe." Then left them to their escape.

Surprisingly, Winchester luck was not with them and they were able to slip out of the Hospital without incident, albeit slow. Distance and the multiple staircases were taking their toll on Dean's knee. He looked exhausted by the time they got to the Impala. Even still, the elder man brushed off Sam's help when he went to slide into the passenger seat.

Sam took up his new position in the driver's seat and brought the black beast to life. He couldn't help the small smirk that turned the corner of his mouth as he watched his brother.

As soon as the rumbling purr vibrated through the car, Dean visibly relaxed. All tension and hints of pain melted away. While he would have preferred the pilot's seat, just being reunited with his first (and probably only) true love, was enough. Most people had a house or an apartment or even a trailer that they called home. But for Dean there was only one place that felt like home to him and he was sitting in it. Softly, he cooed, "Oh, I missed you baby."

At that, Sam laughed, shaking his head in amazement. He threw the car into reverse and drove them out of the Hospital's parking deck.

"Sam, we need to swing past my old room before we meet up with Jenn and Pat."

Curious, Sam glanced at his brother. "Why? Patrick said he collected all your stuff before contacting the local PD. There shouldn't be anything left for you there."

"Trust me, Sam. I'm sure he didn't get everything."

"Even if he missed something, you can always get a new one. That place is a crime scene. It'd be too dangerous to go back now."

"I don't care. I need to go back. You don't have to go in if you don't want to, but I can't leave without making sure it's safe."

"What the hell could be so important that you'd risk jail time for?"

"Something that will help me find, Dad."

Sighing, Sam relented. "Fine. We'll go back and make sure we have it. But you have to promise me Dean that once we have it, you'll wait and we'll find dad, together."

Now it was Dean's turn to regard his brother thoughtfully. "Fine. But not too long. Dad's trail is already ice cold now. It's going to probably take both of us to pick it back up again anyway."

"Good. Now that that's settled let's wrap this job up and get the hell out of here." The brother's shared a brief smile before drifting off into comfortable silence. Each Winchester mulling quietly over their thoughts.

This case was all but done and Sam was starting to get antsy. He wanted Dean out of harm's way and taken care of. But he was also eager to get back to Stanford. This jaunt back into the family business opened his eyes back up to what it was he wanted in life. A stable home. A family. And beautiful Jess was back there waiting for him. He'd wasted enough time. It was time to move forward, and damned the consequences. With his brother in tow, he would have to explain to her what had happened and what life with him might entail. If she did love him, then she would accept all of him. And if not, well, he knew his brother would always be there for him.

Dean was just as anxious to get the hell away from St. Louis. There were too many emotions rolling around inside him that only distance could clear. If he could just get away from this city and this job, he could re-focus on important things and forget what happened here. Their Dad was somewhere out there. And Dean needed to know the old man was ok. He was desperate. He didn't need to hook up with him, just hear his voice and know that everything was ok. That he hadn't screwed things up too badly.

Shifting slightly on the bench seat, a sharp stab of pain ran up his leg. Anger flared. How was he ever going to find his Dad with his leg out of commission? It wasn't fair! He couldn't do anything right any more. This job was hard core proof of that. And now he drug Sam back into the fray. He was supposed to protect Sam; keep him safe. And Sam _was_ safe back at Stanford. Out of the life. Free. But not now. Not with him. Not ever with him around.

The promise he made a few minutes before, he knew he couldn't keep. Sam had a real job and school. Even in a few months when Dean's leg was better, Sam would still be tied to the Apple-pie-life. And he couldn't ask Sam to leave that. Not with knowing that as soon as their Father was found, the fighting would start all over again.

His little brother may be older but he still harboured a lot of anger and resentment toward their life growing up and their Father's methods. One thing was certain, John hasn't changed in the 4 years Sam was gone. Dean knew that for a fact. To bring the two back together would be like putting a lit match and gunpowder in the same box and hoping nothing happened.

A headache was starting to form simply at the thought of it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean cursed. Well, internally anyway. He cursed himself for screwing up, again. He cursed his Dad for leaving. He cursed the Shifter for living and dragging him into this mess. And he cursed everything else for good measure.

"You alright?" Sam's concern pierced the core of him. Those open, seeking eyes automatically taking in Dean's pained expression.

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean answered. At Sam's uncertain frown, he added, "Just a headache. Nothing to worry about."

"Jenn should have your med's back at the hotel. Do you…"

"No. I'm fine. Let's just get what I need first, ok?"

"Okay." Sam muttered in a tone that sounded way too young in Dean's ears. Sighing, he pushed himself up straighter in his seat to show his baby brother that he was really okay.

It was strange for Dean, having someone around again that genuinely worried about him. It had been so long. And oddly enough, missed. His thoughts drifted back to the last conversation they had with Dr. Favreau and Sam's announcement. He had always thought that Sam didn't want his family in his life anymore. After all, the calls had stopped and who writes letters anymore? Not like Dean had a permanent address where letters could be sent. And then suddenly Sam was there. Searching for him. _Saving him_. Was it possible he was wrong? "Did you mean it?" The words slipped out before he could stop himself.

Again, Sam's curious gaze flicked over to him. "What?"

"What you told the Doctor. That you were taking me back to Stanford and putting me on your insurance?"

"Of course I meant it Dean. You're my brother. We're supposed to take care of each other."

"I know, Sammy. It's just… I mean, I can take care of myself. And I'm not asking you to put up with my sorry ass. Doc said it's gonna take a couple months to heal up proper, think you want to put up with me for that long?"

"That's the beauty of this Dean, you don't have to ask, I'm offering." Sam forged ahead cutting off any protest his brother could make. "Besides, I haven't seen you for over 2 years. I think a few months together should give us some time to catch up again."

"Not much to catch up on, really. Dad and I hunted like normal; sometimes together, sometimes separate. Some hunts were good and some not so much. But in the end the bad guys always got a one way ticket to oblivion. That's it, end of story." Dean shrugged. "You're the one that should have the cool stories. Like how many sorority houses you snuck into and partied at? Or how many Playboy fantasies have you lived out?" The older Winchester teased, hoping to turn the subject away from himself.

"Dean. It's not as simple as that," Sam countered gently. They may have been apart for a number of years, but Sam could still easily spot his brother's defense mechanisms. It frustrated him to know that after everything they had been through, Dean still kept him locked out. But their conversation was stalled as he pulled the Impala into the Chain on the Rocks Inn. Quickly surveying the lot, both Winchesters were pleasantly happy to see no cop cars hanging around. Just a couple strips of yellow police tape across the door.

"This should be quick." Dean was about to suggest Sam wait in the car, but as he reached for the door another sharp pain reminded him that his body was far from healed. With a knife wound throbbing in his chest, protesting the simple stretch to open the door, he realized retrieving his prize might not be that easy. Huffing an annoyed grunt, Dean climbed out and barked, "You coming Samantha or what?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam pulled himself from the Impala. Then he automatically headed for the door of the cordoned off room and waited for his brother. Dean's movements were still very stiff. When Dean stepped up next to him, the older man glared at him. "Well, you gonna open it?"

"I thought you had the key."

"And I thought you guys fixed the door. Besides the Shifter had the key last time I checked."

"Well it wasn't in his pocket when I found your cell phone."

"Yeah well something tells me he wouldn't be too concerned with keeping keys around when he's plotting another torture session."

Sam lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Wait here, I'll get the lock pick and open the door."

Dean leaned against the frame and motioned with his hand that Sam was free to proceed. In minutes Sam had collected the kit and worked the door open. Scanning their surroundings one more time, the brothers stepped into the hotel room.

The room was still marked up for the investigation. Tape and number cards scattered about the room indication a stain here and a weapon there. But even their presence did not dispel the shiver that run up Sam's spine as his memory replayed the events of that day.

However, Dean ignored the scene and went straight for the closet. He opened the door and cranked his head to look directly above him. A satisfied smirk curled his lips. "Sam," he called. Grabbing his brother's attention, the taller Winchester joined his brother. "Above the door." Dean jerked his head upward. "Grab it so we can go."

With a curious frown, Sam moved into his brother's place in the doorway and looked up. Some sort of plastic bag was duct taped to the wall. Reaching up with one arm, Sam felt for the bag. It contained something hard. Once he felt he had a good grip on it, he pulled it down. Dean snatched it from his grasp the moment it was within his reach. "Hey!"

"Let's go." Dean ordered.

"Dean, what is it?"

"Later, now let's go."

Minutes later, the Winchester's were settled back in the Impala and on their way to meet Jenn and Pat. Dean clutched the wrapped object in his lap possessively. Sam drove a little more aggressively than before, battling between frustration and curiosity. But if Dean wasn't sharing he had to figure out another way to coax his brother to talk. Clearing his throat, he ventured, "So that's a new hiding spot. When did that start?"

"About a year ago. I was on a solo hunt, checked into a really seedy dive, not like the usual palaces we frequent. I hadn't really brought much in, was just gonna crash for a few hours after being on the road for a while. Threw some cash and extra cards I had in the safe and went out to dinner after I woke up. Was gonna take a quick shower then leave when I got back. That's when I noticed the few things I brought in weren't where I left them. I checked the safe and found it open. But there was no forced entry that I could find. So I went to the desk clerk and saw him and a buddy going through some stuff on a table in the back, _my_ stuff. So I beat them down for stealing, got the rest of my things from the room then booked outta there. Now, I keep things I don't want people to find – ever - up there."

"How did you even think of it?"

"Well, the safe isn't exactly safe and under the bed is a no, I had to figure out a new place to stash stuff. Next place I crashed I walked around and thought about all the places I would look for something when we snoop for clues. I went through everything, drawers, tables, cabinets, under sinks, behind dressers, under beds, basically everything. And I couldn't figure out a good hiding place.

"It wasn't until a few cases later that it hit me, literally. I was going through a girl's closet, which was in one of those taller houses. I needed a chair to search the top shelf. When I was done I hit my head on the top of the door frame. When I turned around, I found a picture there, along with a handful of other drawings of pagan symbols. I would never have seen them if I hadn't hit my head. And that's when I realized, no one ever looks up in the closet. If it's small enough and flat enough no one would find it unless they knew to look there."

"Wow, that's pretty impressive Dean. I would have missed it. And it obviously got passed all the CSI's. Good thinking."

"I got lucky."

"So you going to tell me what it is now?"

"Like a dog with a bone there, Sammy. Fine." Dean ripped open the plastic bag and pulled the book free. He held it up for his brother to see.

Sam's eyes darted back and forth between the road and the object. Startled and shocked, he stammered, "I-isn't that… Dad's journal?"

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks again for reading, reviewing, faveing, alerting and lurking this story. Each and every hit and alert I get makes me happy. :D

Anyway, couple things. I would like to begin working on another story to start posting again, but not sure which plot bunny to go with. So I am curious about what you guys think.

A. Case fic Set in Season 1, The Winchester brothers hit the High seas.

B. Crossover/AU – I have 2 different story ideas for a Supernatural/Batman-Nightwing crossover

C. AU – Mary lives, and the Supernatural canon and verse are decidedly different

I know these are rather vague and in some cases over done but they are mostly ideas with the first chap or so written for each. Not sure if I want to fully vest in them or not. Either way, I would also be very interested to know if anyone was willing to Beta. I find having a Beta helps keep the muse on track and keep the stories from getting too….. stupid? OOC? Lengthy? I don't know. Just need someone to bounce ideas from, ya know? Let me know.

Well, tomorrow we head to Busch Gardens Williamsburg which is exciting since we haven't been there in years. And by next post I will be another year older, or as I would say enriched. Age is merely a counting of cycles. The body may be older, the mind younger, maturity level fluctuating and experience elevated. All in all, a life enhanced.

Thank you all again for enriching my life and sharing my journey. Safe travels and much love.

~Ari :D


	28. Out and Away

"Right in one, little brother." Dean affirmed.

Dumbfounded, Sam tried to wrap his head around it. "But he never goes anywhere without it. Why do you have it?"

"He left it for me at the last job he worked. Well, the last job I knew about anyway."

"Left it? Why?"

"It led me to another Hunt. So the way I figure it, is he wants me to keep going. You know, hunting things and saving people. And I plan to kill as many sonsabitches that I can while I find Dad. So if Dad entrusted all his knowledge to me, then I'm gonna keep it safe and use it to do what I can. This book has already helped."

Sam's gaze kept flickering over to the leather bound binder that was his father's constant companion. "I just can't get over the fact he actually _left_ it. I mean it was his most prized possession. He didn't go anywhere without it. And he just left it?" He pondered incredulously.

"I'm holding it, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but maybe he didn't just leave it. Maybe something else happened, something worse."

"Dad's fine, Sammy. I know he is." Dean assured his brother. "He just didn't want me to follow. He mentioned he was finding more clues as to who or what killed mom. I think he left because of that."

"But if he figured out what killed mom, why would he shut you out? You guys have been hunting together forever, right? And this thing is dangerous, so why wouldn't he want you as back up?"

"I don't know!" Dean bit out. It had been a question rattling around in his mind the moment he realized his Dad was missing. And with each passing day, the various possible reasons for his Dad walking away ate at him piece by piece. "Since when did Dad ever explain anything? Especially to us. We do what we do and shut up about it."

"…What we do and shut up about it." Sam joined in the mantra. "That doesn't mean what he did, the way he did it, was right."

"Doesn't matter. He did what he did to keep us safe."

Scoffing, Sam countered, "Yeah because dragging us all over the country, staying in hellhole motels, constantly switching schools and carrying fake ID's and fraudulent cards is the foundation of a happy and safe childhood."

Irritated, Dean warned, "Don't start that crap again. You know he did the best he could."

"He was a Drill Sergeant first and then a Dad."

"And his training kept us alive on more hunts than I can count."

"Hunts we should never have been on."

"So what? We were supposed to turn our backs on all those innocent people? Just let them die?"

"No. But we were just kid's ourselves. Weren't we innocent too?"

"Not since Mom died." Dean firmly stated. His tone conveyed that this would be the end of this conversation.

"Not for me. She was just another victim of some supernatural monster. No, it was after I read dad's journal that everything changed for me." Sam snipped back, his way of getting in the last word.

"Pull over!"

"Wha-"

"Pull over right now!" Sam steered the car to the side of the road. The vehicle hadn't even stopped rolling when Dean threw open the door with a pained grunt then jumped out with a slam.

Worry spiked through Sam. Quickly he leapt from the driver's seat and rounded the car to meet his awkwardly pacing brother. Before he could ask Dean what was wrong, he found himself being slammed into the side of the car with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"Don't you ever talk about Mom like that. You hear me?" Dean hissed with barely restrained fury. "She was… she was…" He searched for the right words but couldn't find any that could convey all the memories and emotions that represented the kind woman he knew so long ago.

Sam's own anger answered Dean's. Automatically, he pushed his brother away to get some space between them. However, the rough banking along the road and Dean's condition conspired against him.

Dean yelped when Sam's hand pressed into his wounded chest. Instinct had him stepping back with his hands coming up to protected his weak spot. But Dean had more than one spot to protect. The next thing he knew, the ground was not where his foot expected and he couldn't keep his balance with his bum knee, and he was falling backward. The Immobilizer made for an awkward fall and the jolt up his arms when they reached out to stop himself took his breath away.

"Dean!" Sam hurried to his fallen brother's side, worried and ashamed of what had happened. He didn't mean to cause the tormented man any further pain and yet he had. He couldn't believe he had been so thoughtless.

Dean sat with eyes clenched shut and jaw tight, fending off the wave of agony threatening to claim him. He could feel his brother squatting next to him but reluctant to touch him; all the while muttering away. "Oh God, Dean. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't… I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

Pain had a way of sharpening one's senses and Dean realized as much as Sam's words about their mother cut him, his brother never really knew her the way he had. Sam was his baby brother, a mere six months when their mother died. Pain drove the anger away leaving remorse in its wake. After a few moments, he was able to breathe normally again, Dean huffed out, "Will you stop it? This is as much my fault as it is yours."

"But you're hurt. I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

"In case you forgot, you didn't walk away from the shifter unscathed either. And I was just up in your face. It's ok."

Sam couldn't help but smile at Dean's easy absolution. "Let me help you back to the car. The Hotel's not far. You can rest for a bit before we head out."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean was tired and sore and all the fight drained out of him. And he knew Sam was feeling guilty so letting him help should balance it out, hopefully.

The pair eased their way back to the Impala and headed for their destination. The rest of the car ride was quiet.

- SPN –

"Where the hell have you two been?" Jenn demanded of the Winchesters within minutes of entering their room. She stood in the doorway joining the two rooms with her hands on her hips.

Dean was sprawled out on the bed closest to the door, his good arm over his eyes, when he sallied back, "Gee mom, we're back before curfew. Relax."

Pat stepped in, "You boys make it back ok then? No cops followed you or anything?"

"No," Sam replied. "Sorry we took so long, we needed to make a quick stop."

Patrick watched as Dean unfurled the arm over his eyes and placed it protectively on a worn book beside him. The Marshal decided it wasn't worth asking about. "Doesn't matter. Everything's in place. I'd say you have about 24 hours before they realize you haven't been relocated. I suggest you boys are long gone before then."

At this, Dean groaned as he pushed himself up in the bed. "And what about you? How do you plan on explaining our disappearance? Won't you get in trouble?"

"Don't you fret none over me. I've got my story worked out. Besides, your crimes are small-fry compared to the chaos this 'chameleon killer' has created. Impersonating a Federal Officer and some grave desecrations aren't enough to warrant pursuit. Although I'm starting to get what the grave desecration thing might be about." The older man scratched the back of his head. This whole experience had really been an eye opener for him. And to be honest he wasn't ready to learn more about what could go bump in the night.

Jenn jumped in at the pause. "Are you sure you don't want me to book a flight for you? I could even arrange for your car to be picked up and transported."

"Nobody touches my car." Dean countered firmly. "And no flying."

Sam agreed, "Thank you, but we're good. And I think it would be more comfortable for Dean, instead of the cramped seating on a plane. Thanks, Marshal for everything you've done. You've been more help than we could have ever hoped for."

"Well, like I said before, I believe in justice and although the truth may set you free in most cases, I really don't want to have my sanity questioned. I like my job. I help people. Can't do that from the cuckoo's nest."

Sam looked at his co-worker. "So when do you think you'll be ready to head out?" Jenn's sudden and hot blush took him off guard.

"About that," she began sheepishly, "I'm not planning on driving with you boys back to Stanford. I've already booked tickets to Reno for the day after tomorrow."

"Reno?" Dean smirked. "Planning on living a little before heading back to the mundane?"

"No," she glanced at Patrick, "We're going to pick up his daughter, Gina, then go back to Palo. We should be arriving back about the same time."

The brothers looked between the budding couple and smirked. "That's great."

"Yeah, besides, you don't want to be cooped up with the Sasquatch for 3 days. He may look innocent but his ass is deadly." Dean teased.

"Dean!" Sam cried indignantly.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, Dean justified, "I only speak the truth. As soon as you hit puberty you became silent but deadly."

"Dude, TMI."

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, good luck you two. We'll be heading out soon. As Pat said, the sooner the better. It might take them a bit to figure out we're gone but no need to take any chances."

Patrick bobbed his head in agreement. "Here, a parting gift before you go. You know, for saving me and Jenn." He reached behind him and pulled out a pearl handled 1911 and handed it to Dean.

"Awesome!" Dean glowed at getting his favourite gun back. "How…?"

"You're welcome, and don't ask. Just do me a favour; stay out of trouble for a while. I don't think I could handle another case like this so soon." The Marshal cautioned. "Maybe you could stop by once you hit Reno, if you drive through that way, that is. You know, take a break."

"No promises, Marshal." Sam answered.

"I think after all we've been through it's ok to call me Pat now. Anyway, the offer stands. And stay in touch. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you two."

"Same to you, Pat," Dean reciprocated. "Unfortunately, now that you know there's things out there that don't follow the rules, you might need some help now and then yourself."

"I don't doubt it."

It didn't take long to clean out their room, after all most of their stuff was already packed. Jenn pulled Sam aside and instructed him on Dean's medication regime and provided information on some exercises he could do. All of which she had obtained from Dr. Favreau when Dean was discharged. Pat helped load everything in the car. And Dean was mandated to resting, which he readily complied. His body did not appreciate the roadside tumble.

When everything was ready, Sam started his brother on his med regime, kicking off with some pain meds. Then they headed down where Jenn and Patrick saw them off. The brothers thanked them again with the promise of seeing them soon. Sam attempted to help Dean into the Impala, but was predictably shrugged off. Ignoring his brother's incoherent grumblings, Sam rounded the car to the driver's seat. He opened the door and waiting until Dean slid carefully inside before climbing in himself.

He watched his brother surreptitiously from the corner of his eye, while he brought the sleek machine to life. For a moment he was suddenly awed by the fact that this trip, he would be the one guiding the black vehicle along the winding roads of Americana instead of his father or brother. Sam's emotions were a strange mix of exhilaration and fear. He didn't realize how long he had been in thought until Dean spoke up beside him.

"Would you quit fondling the wheel and get moving? We're burning daylight here."

Glancing over, Sam smirked. "Sure." Then he watched as Dean settled into the seat, leaning up against the door and closed his eyes.

"Any day now, college boy." Dean prompted.

Sam's smirk dissolved into a quick laugh. Feeling no need to respond, he put the car in reverse and left St. Louis and all the crap behind. Well, as much as they could anyway. There were still a lot of questions Sam wanted answers to, he just hoped Dean would give them up without too much of a fight. But it would have to wait for now. Dean had quickly slipped into a deep slumber by way of heavy meds and the stress over the last few days.

So for hours Sam let the steady hum of the motor wash over him. And for the first time in his life, Sam felt the rhythm of the road work its magic. He finally understood his brother's love of driving. It wasn't just about the vibration of the motor, the friction of the tires along asphalt, or the white noise of the wind rushing by. It was about the journey, leaving behind all the things you want to forget and heading toward a brighter future. The symbolic aspect of putting the past behind you and taking a step toward new horizons.

And yet at the same time, if you allowed it, driving could numb the world around you. Muscle memory and repetitive motions freed the mind to wander through thoughts and emotions. Drift into the subconscious to analyze and ponder memories and dreams. Time became meaningless. And the next thing Sam knew they were just outside of Kansas City and needing gas.

Just under 4 hours into their journey, the youngest Winchester pulled off the highway to fill up. Beside him, his brother stirred. Through bleary eyes, Dean quickly scanned their surroundings and glanced at the clock. Running quick calculations through his head, Dean shifted to sit up straighter then suggested. "Its Saturday so there shouldn't be any Rush Hour but it still might be a good idea to use the belt. Take 435 to 29, it may be a bit longer but it's not like we're in a rush right?"

Pulling into a 'stop-n-go' kind of station, Sam got out to fill up the car. Moments later, Dean swung open his door and clambered to his feet. Sam made a move to help him, but the older man cut him off. "I'm fine Sammy. Just need to hit the head and stretch my legs a bit. Haven't really camped out in the car like this in a while. And this damned immobilizer thing isn't helping. You want anything while I'm inside?"

"I'm good with anything." Finished with pre-paying at the pump, Sam grabbed for the nozzle and bent to access the gas tank. As he did so, he continued to monitor his injured brother for any signs of trouble. Dean gimped his way into the small building without incident and the taller Winchester switched gears. Setting the nozzle latch to pump without him, Sam reached into the back of the car and pulled out their map. He hadn't driven in this part of the country for a long time and wanted to see the route Dean suggested.

For curiosity's sake, he decided to look for alternative routes to get them back to California. That's when he noted that if they stayed on 70, they would drive right by Lawrence. Sam hadn't thought of the place in years and was suddenly hit with a jumble of emotions. He couldn't quite name all of them nor describe exactly what he was feeling.

On one hand there was an inkling that pulled him toward the town, but he didn't know why. It wasn't for nostalgic reasons, because he really didn't remember the place. Just that that was where their mom died and their lives changed forever. But on the other hand, a part of him simply didn't care. He didn't remember their life before the fire, didn't remember their mom; just stories his father and brother told. However, stronger than either emotion was a growing sense of curiosity. It was the place where all this pain and suffering for their family began. Maybe if he could see it for himself, see why that time was such a taboo subject outside the murmured bedtime stories or random side story. Sam had to know.

Just then, Dean came out of the tiny convenience shop with a couple of bags of chips, candy, soda and some kind of liquor. Sam sighed heavily, teasing, "I see you're still on that 'see-food' diet. You know there's more out there than greasy burgers and junk food, right?"

"Don't worry Sammy, I got the bases covered." Settling the bags on the trunk, Dean proceeded to pull out Pork rinds, Funyuns, Snickers, a bag of Peanut M&M's, a six pack of DP and a 6 pack of beer. "See – protein, dairy (pointing at the snickers and M&M's,) vegetables (funyuns) and fruit (DP.) Not to mention every man's staple foods – Pork rinds and beer."

"First off, beer is not a 'food.' And second, no drinking while on those med's, Dean."

"I'll be fine, Sammy. Don't be such a stick in the mud."

"I'm only looking out for you."

"I don't need it."

Realizing Dean wasn't going to back down, Sam decided to drop it for now. "Fine, whatever. Anyway, I've been thinking…" The gas clicked off and Sam pulled the nozzle out. Nodding his head toward the map spread out on the trunk of the Impala, Sam suggested, "We don't have to head north. We could go straight through Kansas on I70."

In an instant Dean's playful expression, paled to sheet white before turning dark. Almost growling, he spoke low and sharp. "No, Sam."

"Dean, you don't even kn-"

"Yes, I do, and we're not going." And Dean did. It didn't take a genius to get what Sam was suggesting. And there was no way he was stepping foot in Lawrence again. "Just go the way…"

"What? Why?"

"Because I said so." Dean's anger steadily grew. Scooping up his purchase, he threw the bags into the back seat of the car.

"That's not a reason."

"I said no." The distraught man moved toward the passenger door with jerky steps.

"It would be a quick stop."

"I don't care!'

"Why not?!"

Slamming his fist on the roof of the car, Dean cursed. "Damn it Sammy. Haven't I …" _been through enough already._ Dean wanted to say but his voice choked off. Placing both hands on the roof, he hunched over, closing his eyes and pursed his lips. He couldn't go back there, especially after everything that happened. It would be too much. To go there now would break him, and he was barely holding himself together as it was. It took him another minute to reign in the flux of emotions bubbling beneath the surface. And another minute to convince his vocal chords to work again. "Don't make me, Sam. I can't."

Such raw pain shown in the hazel depths of his brother, that Sam found himself quickly giving in. He would do whatever it took to ease his brother's suffering, especially if it meant he never had to see that expression ever again. It tore his heart to see the hero he had worshiped growing up looking so utterly broken. Gently complying, Sam spoke, "Okay, Dean. It's ok. We'll head north."

Dean didn't trust himself to speak. Instead he gave a quick nod.

Collecting the map, the younger Winchester moved to the driver's side. "It's okay, Dean. We're going now." Together the pair climbed back into the car. Sam pulled the black beast back out onto the road and followed Dean's directions around Kansas City.

- SPN –

An hour passed in silence as each boy pondered their thoughts. They were about a half hour from Nebraska City now. The younger man noticed Dean shifting and fidgeting more and more as they drove. Checking the clock, Sam knew they were just within the window. Clearing his throat, he tossed out as a peace offering, "You can take another dose of pain meds if you want."

"I'm fine, Sam."

"I know. I'm just throwing that out there in case you did want some."

"It's nothing I can't handle," Dean dismissed.

Cautiously, Sam glanced toward his brother and risked, "Did you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"I don't know. Anything. Everything. Lawrence. Mom. Dad. The Shifter. Your knee. Anything."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You know that's a lie. But if you're not ready, then I'll wait."

Surprised, Dean whispered, "Thanks, Sammy."

Smirking, Sam took a steadying breath before venturing, "Do you mind if I talk then?"

"Of course, go ahead."

"Thanks. Well, it's just this whole Shapeshifter mess. All those lives that thing tore apart. Not just the kills but the fact that these men lost someone they cared for deeply got me thinking. Just because I don't hunt any more doesn't mean that I'm immune to bad stuff happening. It may not be a shapeshifter or a ghost or a werewolf, it could be something as simple as a heart attack or an aneurism. What I'm trying to say is, there's no guarantees in life. And to live it to the fullest, you need to take risks.

"I've put something off when I knew it was what I wanted. I let career and money take precedence, when I should have trusted my heart. You said before, that you were ready to put the life on hold because you thought you were in love."

"Don't forget that didn't work out too well for me," Dean reminded him.

"I know. And I still know she's the one who missed out on something great for letting you go. But at least you were honest with her as well as yourself. And that's what I've got to be too. Then there won't be any regrets. No 'what ifs' haunting our lives."

"So what are you saying?"

"I love Jess. I've loved her since the moment I met her. She's the one, Dean. I know it now. It's time. And I would really like it if you would be my best man."

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well a long chap for you, sorry that I am posting so late. But as they say, better late than never. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

Vacay was great, just wish it was longer. Verbolten in Busch Gardens was a surprisingly good coaster. I would highly recommend it.

As for the mini vote, I got a few comments for the case fic. It will take some research, most of which I have done but there are still a few things I am working on before posting.

And thanks for the birthday wishes. I don't feel any older. I still affirm that age is just a state of mind.

Quick shout out to _Guest_ - Thank you I am glad you enjoyed it. I always love my angst. ;)

Anyway, thank you all for the hits, reviews, faves and alerts. Until next Wednesday.

~Ari :D


	29. Calm

"You're serious, Dude?" A mixture of surprise, joy and disbelief laced Dean's tone.

Laughing, Sam affirmed, "Yeah, I am."

"And you really think now is the right time? What about your job and school?" Shifting his body so he could look at his brother better, a twinge of discomfort shot up his leg and met the quick stab of pain in his chest, reminding him of his own failures.

"That's my point, Dean. I've put it off for just those reasons. But after this mess, I don't want to put it off any longer."

Trying to keep the worry and tension from his voice, Dean asked, "But won't it be too much? I mean you said you wanted me to stay with you. If you guys get married, I'd just be in the way."

"No you won't. Even if I proposed as soon as we got back, the wedding itself won't be for months yet. And by that time, we'll have found a new place to settle. You could find a job close by until you've recovered from the surgery. Then we'll take some time to find dad. We may not get on all the time, but I would still like it if dad could be there for the wedding. And I have to give Jess time to get used to our Hunting past and that the Supernatural is real."

"You're really gonna tell her? Dude, I don't know what order you're planning on going with, but I suggest getting the hunting thing out there as soon as possible. Don't want her going into all this blind. It's why I…." Dean paused, swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. "Never mind. Just break it to her gently. Don't go blurting it out."

"Is that what you did?" Sam cautiously asked.

Dean let out a sad huff of air that could be called a laugh. "Come on, Sammy. You know me. You know I'm not good at all that sharing and caring crap. I'm not smart like you Sam. I'm not good with words. I know you'll find a way to ease her into it. You've always been good with words. Not me."

"That's not true Dean. There have been plenty of times I thought about telling Jess, but I couldn't find a way without sounding crazy or stupid. There's no easy way to tell someone that the safe world they believed they lived in was really full of dark creatures lurking in the shadows ready to kill you given the opportunity."

"Ah-ha! See, that sounds way better and much nicer then, 'Every scary thing you've ever seen in the movies or read in a book is out there ready to kill you.' Or even, 'We hunt ghosts, freaks and monsters that most people thought were just myths but are really bloodthirsty creatures bent on killing you.' See what I mean?"

"I'm sure you could have found a way if you had the time."

"Maybe. But time wasn't on my side Sammy. Dad was already antsy and he was just starting to threaten coming to Ohio to get me himself and drag me back. He woulda done it too. In the end he didn't have to. It was over."

"Dean, I'm sorry man. You deserved better than that."

"That's not true. Our family's cursed man. Happiness isn't in the cards."

"Don't say that." Sam tried to reassure the older man. "Once we kill the thing that got mom, we can start over. We all deserve happiness. You can't give up hope."

The hint of bitterness the dwelled deep inside him, tried to make itself know. Dean spoke harshly, "It's not a matter of hope. It's facing reality. It wouldn't be fair to whatever girl I end up with. Not with our lives."

"So give up hunting. Once the mission is over, walk away."

"You know I can't do that, Sammy. I can't unlearn Hunting. Can't forget about all the things out there hurting innocent people. There's a war every single day in every single town and city in this country - hell the whole world. I can't simply walk away when I know there's something I can do about it. And I can't ask someone to sit around waiting for me, especially when there's a chance I might not come back."

"Dean."

"I mean it Sam. I'd be a woman's worst nightmare. A soldier, policeman, fireman - all wrapped into one multiplied by a thousand. Every time I head out on a job could be the last time they see me alive. That's not fair and I don't deser….I won't put someone through that."

Sam had easily caught Dean's slip. And it wasn't hard to figure out what his brother was implying. Sadly, he said, "Dean, you do deserve someone's love."

"Yeah, well, you deserve it more. You never wanted this life. Hell, I never wanted you in this life. Dad and I tried to protect you from this as long as we could. I'm sure Dad thought he would have had this whole thing wrapped up a lot sooner than he did. Not that it's over now. But you were always too smart for your own good and asked too many questions. You pushed and pushed until we gave in and…" A sad chuckle escaped the older man. The sentence hung in the air between them.

Sam stole quick glances at his brother, wondering what was going through the man's head. But Dean didn't continue and once again Sam's curiosity won the battle. "And what Dean?"

Reluctantly, Dean continued, his gaze turning more inward than actually trying to see the dark landscape that sped past the window. "I'm sure it's just me, but I always kinda thought that once you learned the truth about what was out there, deep down you resented Dad and me for telling you. I think that's one of the reasons you always fought so hard against Dad's orders. Because once you knew what's out there, you can never go back. And every once and a while I could see how much you hated us for taking your innocence away."

"No, Dean. Never."

"It's ok Sammy. I get it. I hate myself for having told you. I wish I could take it all back. I'm sorry, Sammy."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Dean. I was the one who pushed. Hell, I backed you into a corner and forced you to tell me _after_ I found and read dad's journal. It was just as much my fault. And with the way we were brought up, it was really just a matter of time. If not you or dad, then Pastor Jim, Bobby, Caleb, or some other Hunter would have slipped eventually."

"Whatever, Sammy." Dean shifted stiffly, trying to easy the aches and pains that were steadily reawakening. Seeing as a easy way to change topics, Dean cleared his throat. "Look, I think I'm ready for those painkillers now. If you start getting tired, just pull off and get a room. I can't relieve you with this bum leg, so it's safer just to stop. Okay?"

"Yeah, I will."

Nodding, Dean grabbed for his bag in the back (grunting as his chest protested the awkward movement) and a bottle of water, which they always had lying around. He downed a few pills then leaned against the door with his eyes shut and drifted off to sleep.

Sam drove on, thinking over the conversation they had. In the past few days he started seeing his brother in a new light. So much had been revealed and so much still remained hidden. He had always seen his big, over-protective brother as a cocksure, smooth, womanizing, conman/soldier. And Sam was only now starting to realize that was merely the candy coating – distracting brightly colored shell that was hiding what lay inside. The pair may have been estranged the last few years, but Sam vowed to rekindle their relationship.

-SPN-

Another four plus hours in the car, and even Sam was feeling the effects of their ordeal. After all the Shifter worked him over pretty good too. It was closing in on midnight and he was tired, achy and hungry. Their last meal was just outside St. Joseph, and it wasn't much. Stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, Sam pulled the Impala off the highway near Grand Island, which was out in the middle of nowhere.

Dean roused slowly as Sam searched for a fast meal and a place to crash. Unfortunately not much was still open except for the 24 hour Wally World, so Sam pulled in.

"Hey, why don't you hang here. I'll just run in real quick for a snack." Sam offered.

Scowling, Dean replied as Sam cut the engine, "I'm fine, Sam." And before his brother could protest further, he added, "Besides, we can stock up on some other things while we're here." Then he climbed out of the car.

Realizing he wasn't going to convince the older man to wait, Sam sighed and followed suit. The place was pretty dead except for the pallets in the aisles and the night stockers, so the duo was able to move about unhindered. Their first stop was the Subway inside to grab a sandwich before they closed for the night. Then they worked their way around the store collecting the various items they needed.

Soon they were back on the road looking for the motel that the cashier was kind enough to point them to. This time, Sam didn't pose it as a question when he said, "Stay here, I'll be back in a few."

It was a testament to his condition that Dean didn't argue. Sam had watched his brother in the store and while he walked in with his usual swagger, Dean walked out with slow measured steps and ashen face. They were both due for a round of pain meds now. However, Dean wouldn't take his until he was ready to pass out again.

Making quick work of checking in, Sam returned to the car 15 minutes later with a key. After moving the car closer to their door, together the Winchesters collected their things and headed inside. Just past the door Dean dropped his duffle on the first bed while Sam took the second. Then the pair moved to the little table by the window to eat their late night meal.

As they were wrapping up what was left of their sandwiches, Sam queried, "Did you want first crack at the bathroom or change your bandages now?"

Dean's gaze quickly traced the path he would have to take to the bathroom at the other end of the room and then glanced at the foot and a half distance from his chair to his bed before he answered. "Naw, you can shower now. I'll rinse off in the morning."

"And your bandages?"

"I got it."

"Y'sure?" Sam pressed, not quite convinced.

"I'm not gonna do a full swap, just a patch to last through the night since we're gonna have to change it all again in the morning anyway." Dean glanced at his watch. "Which at this point, is only a few hours from now. I'm a big boy, ya know."

"Whatever, holler if you need anything. I won't be long." Collecting his things Sam headed for the bathroom. He was too tired to argue. Minutes later the soft rush of water could be heard.

Dean watched him go before slowly making his way around the room to get the medkit and a change of clothes for bed. Carefully, he peeled off his outer shirt and then pulled off his undershirt, all one handed. He didn't want to let his brother know how much his shoulder was starting to bother him. Damn knife wounds were such a nuisance.

Yanking the kit within arm's reach, he cautiously began to pull the gauze away. There was a splotch of blood right about the puncture wound but not as much as he expected. Guess those few days in the hospital with constant professional care helped. With the cover gone, Dean was finally able to inspect the stitches without supervision. Even the last time the dressings were changed Sam had done it for him. This time, he was back in control of his body and it felt good.

First examining the stitches was harder than he hoped, simply because of the placement of the wound and his own inability to arch his head enough to get a clear view. So he opted to cautiously probe the wound with his fingers. He didn't really touch the stitching but slowly worked his way around the bruised skin. Despite the array of colors, Dean noted that it felt a lot better than before. Probably thanks to the aforementioned professional care.

Still, the wound was throbbing as well as all the other aches and pains throughout his body. He grabbed some fresh gauze pads and tape. He cut a few strips of tape and opened the packages. With practiced ease, Dean put the tape along the edges and then slapped it onto his chest. Grunting at the sudden pressure, he smoothed the strips quickly.

A few minutes later he had the medkit packed back up and he was leaning over to place it on the table when a hand suddenly took it from his grasp and replaced it with a glass of water. Dean was surprised to see his brother standing there in jeans with a towel over one shoulder. He hadn't even heard the water cut out let alone his brother coming back into the room. Frowning at his lack of observance, he muttered "Thanks," before taking the glass.

Sam put the kit down and retrieved the pain meds from his bag. He tossed them over to Dean, who almost fumbled the catch, before heading back to his own bed. Dean didn't move. From the back, Sam could see the tension across his brother's shoulders. Sighing softly, Sam tossed the towel away and did his best not to worry about the older man's lapse. Dean had always pounded into his head since he could remember to always be aware of your surroundings because you never knew what was out there ready to get you. The fact he could surprise the Hunter spoke once again to how far off his game Dean was.

Sam sat there waiting for his brother to take the dose. His gaze drifted along the muscled back, noting old and familiar lines. But what surprised him more was the number of new scars he did not know. Many overshadowed the old marks and made them look small and insignificant in comparison. Before he could stop his tongue from speaking, "What happened to you?" slipped out.

"Wanna be a little more specific there, Sammy?" Dean countered while he tossed back his pills and swallowed a gulp of water.

"Two years, Dean. Nothing. Not a word. Four with a few exchanged 'heys.' All that time that I know nothing about."

"And whose fault was that? I called. I left messages until I finally accepted the fact you didn't want me around. And I let you be. Just like you wanted."

"True, but that's because I couldn't talk to you without dad tagging along. And he was the one that told me to stay gone."

"We've already done this, and it's over. I'm not talking about this now, any of it."

"You promised you would tell me."

"Yeah, but I didn't say when. And I especially didn't say I would spill in some random motel at 1 o'clock in the morning after downing some knock'em out pain meds. Let alone the fact that tomorrow, to make a good push, we'll have to get up at the butt crack of dawn. So, no, I'm not."

"Fine," Sam conceded with a huff. He continued to watch his brother as he gingerly moved to pull on a t-shirt and settle into the lumpy bed. His thoughts began to wander again. Too many new scars in his mind. Too many different causes for those scars. It tore his heart to know that his brother bore so much pain both inside and out. And in his eyes, Dean bore it alone.

Well, he was here now. Sam was willing to share the load if his brother decided he was trustworthy enough. His track record was far from stellar, but he was different now. Older, maybe not exactly wiser but definitely more understanding. If all he could offer in the end was a sympathetic ear, he would gladly do it.

Dean lay quietly on the bed with his eyes closed, although Sam knew it was too soon for the meds to have kicked in. He knew he wasn't going to get answers tonight. Dean had been right, they never stipulated when they would talk, just a vague assurance that it would happen soon. Well, there was a long drive ahead of them that could easily be put to more productive use. Clearing his throat, he tentatively asked, "Tomorrow? Would you be willing to tell me then?"

Without opening his eyes, Dean scowled. "You're just not gonna to let this drop, are you?"

"I need to know, Dean."

"No, you _want_ to know," the older man corrected, "It won't change anything."

"I don't care."

Sighing, Dean cracked his eyes open and looked at his baby brother. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. A silent battle of wills that Dean knew he didn't have the strength or desire to win. He really couldn't deny the kid anything when it came down to it. "Fine," he breathed. "Just remember you asked for this. Now go to sleep."

What should have been Sam's triumph felt more like a loss to the younger Winchester. There was a touch of sadness and defeat in his brother's tone, like someone had killed his puppy. (Not like they would really know what that felt like.) It was just the feeling he got from his brother.

Sam hurried through his nightly rituals and uttered a quick, 'night,' before climbing into his equally lumpy bed. His thoughts began to flow with images of all the horrors and injustices their family was cursed with while he was off living his 'normal' life. He would get some answers tomorrow, but not all. His brother kept too much tightly to his chest. Unfortunately, he feared what little he might learn would be way more than he ever wanted to know.

Even with powerful meds, Sam was still aware when Dean woke from a nightmare. There was no scream or harsh cry. There was no leap from the bed or sudden sit up. Just a simple sharp intake of breath.

Neither moved. Each man let the other believe that they were still sleeping. Yet, neither did they settle back into slumber, instead they allowed their thoughts to drift in and out until the sun rose. It was an early morning start to what would probably be one of the hardest days of Dean's life.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Sorry this wasn't all that exciting and for the lateness in posting. Busy day at work and then I had to cut our forest of grass. Just glad it's finally done. Yeah, to a nice looking yard again.

Anyway, I'm tired and I'm rambling. Speaking of rambling I am excited for Friday when we get to see the Monkees again, less Davy sadly. We miss you Davy Jones! And then it's my daughter's birthday Sunday. And we are serving at church again this weekend. So it will be another crazy weekend, like the past several weekends this summer. And only a few weeks now until school begins again. So much for a lazy summer.

I hope you all have a great weekend! Thanks again for reading, reviewing, faveing and alerting this fic. All types of feedback are greatly appreciated.

Until next Wednesday,

~Ari :D


	30. Heart of the Matter

Morning came quicker than Dean wanted. Of course he had already been awake for a few hours due to old twisted memories resurfacing because of the pending and unavoidable conversation looming. Needless to say, he was not ready to face what his brother had asked of him. Unfortunately, he could no longer put it off.

The moment he feigned waking up, his brother practically jumped out of bed and started preparing for the day. It was obvious that the younger man had been awake for some time too, just waiting for Dean's cue. Now that they were moving, the elder Winchester stiffly made his way to the bathroom and relished his nice, long, hot shower. Thankful for the opportunity to finally be alone and reclaim some of his pride by doing it all on his own. No Nurses. No mother-henning brother lingering just outside the door, checking on him every two minutes. Just Dean.

Taking his time, Dean moved purposefully. Each step measured and calculated to cause him the least amount of discomfort. And for the first time in a week, he almost felt whole again. Well, as whole as one could feel with a busted knee and a knife wound in your chest. Still most of the bruising was starting to fade. Amazingly, his body still had some remarkable recuperative abilities - a fortunate ability for their line of work.

Showered, shaved and partially dressed, Dean emerged from the tiny steaming room. Sam was waiting anxiously at the table with all the supplies he would need to re-dress Dean's stab wound. Figuring he could cut the kid some slack, considering he was garnering his strength for the mental and emotional upheaval he was expecting, no need to add physical to the list too. Without a word, he walked over to his bed and sat across Sam and waited.

It only took a millisecond for Sam to read and interpret his brother's compliance before quickly setting to work. It didn't take long before Dean's chest was bandaged again and their stuff was all packed up. They left the hotel and stopped at a diner on the way back to the highway, all without uttering a word to each other. Only speaking to order, they ate quietly then settled the bill. It was only after they got back on the interstate did one address the other.

Clearing his throat, Dean cautiously inquired, "Are you sure, Sammy?"

"Yes, Dean." Sam answered firmly, doing his best to convey in his tone his willingness, confidence, and love for his brother along with his concern and strength while trying to keep his eagerness and curiosity in check. Let's just say there was a heavy mix of emotion in those words.

"Cause you can't unlearn any of it once you know."

"I know."

"And you have to promise me you won't go looking for someone to blame other than the supernatural bastards we hunt."

Swallowing down his growing worry and anger, Sam finally nodded, "I promise."

Another few minutes passed quietly. Sam waited patiently. He could be saintly when he had to be or to prove someone wrong. In this particular case, it was to show his brother he didn't want to push him, would wait until Dean was ready. And as always, it worked.

"I told you before, I'm not going to get into the nitty-gritty of it all. I'll tell you what happened, but I don't want to hear anything from you until I've finished. I don't want to hear what dad or anyone else shoulda/woulda/coulda done. This is all in the past and there's no changing any of it. And you getting all in a huff ain't gonna make any of it any better. It's _my_ past and _I_ get to choose how much I'm willing to say. Got it?"

"Got it," Sam affirmed with another bob of his head.

"One more thing, I'm not going over every case since you left because there's just too much. I could tell you about a random case or I can tell you about a specific case, your choice. I already told you a bit about my failed attempt to try an apple pie life, so that's off the books. And knowing you, I think I know which case you probably want to hear about. So indulge me. You said the Shifter hinted at some things and I know there must be something eating you up. So tell me, what case do you want to hear?"

Taken aback by his brother's rather complacent mood, Sam considered his answer carefully. It's true over the various conversations with Shifter-Dean, he had learned a lot. But that only opened up more questions. Simple nature had him curious about the first case without him, but that just seemed like a cop out, like he wanted to know how badly they would do without him. Except that they couldn't have been that bad, after all they survived for years without him. And he already knew a bit of what happened anyway - their dad was gung-ho hunting.

He had also heard more about the time Dean tried to leave the life, whether or not it was supposed to be temporary or not didn't matter. There were also darker things the Shifter eluded to that Sam wasn't sure he would ever be ready to hear. Involuntarily, he shivered at the horrid implications the Shifter suggested. No, whatever the Shifter was trying to say, it would be entirely Dean's choice to reveal. He would not push him on that.

After Sam had first discovered Dean in the Shifter's lair, his brother had said he had been tortured before. Looking at the numerous new marks marring his brother's skin, Sam was hard pressed to doubt it. But above all else there was one word the Shifter had dropped during one of his rants that struck a wicked chord with him. Pulling in a lungful of air, he pushed the word out. "Werewolves."

Dean let out a huff that could be called a laugh. "He mentioned that, did he?"

"Yeah. He said after the werewolves you took an easy hunt. This was odd for a number of reasons. First, you don't take _easy_ hunts unless you are really banged up. But even more strange was the fact he said _werewolves_, as in more than one. Werewolves are generally territorial and are solo creatures. So why would he say werewolves, as in plural?"

"Because it was a pack." Dean said matter-of-factly. He wasn't surprised that his genius brother would pick up on something so subtle.

"What? How can that be? Just because they are often associated with dogs doesn't mean that they are pack animals. And most of the real lore reports solo creatures, it's only the romanticized versions that have packs."

"Not this time, Sammy. They weren't like any werewolves we've dealt with prior either."

"In what way?"

"Most times, when we come across a werewolf, they are bloodthirsty creatures with no real sense of awareness. Their kills aren't targeted specifically or planned out. Most times it's their subconscious taking over and taking out perceived threats. But these werewolves, they knew exactly what they were doing. They had a plan and an end game. And they were going to see it through to the bitter end."

"What the hell kind of plans would werewolves have?"

"Revenge, Sam."

"Revenge against who?" Sam demanded but deep down the unsettling feeling in his stomach told him he wasn't going to like the answer. And he was right.

"Dad."

"What? Why?"

"It actually started a long time ago, before you ran off to Stanford. Hell, I was still going to school. Some hunt Dad had picked up on and took care of on his own. It was a werewolf. After Dad did some checking around, he managed to find its lair and waited for it. Killed it easily enough and moved on, taking us with him. What Dad didn't know was that it wasn't just one werewolf it had been a pair, a very old pair at that. They had developed awareness during their transformations and accepted the animal parts of them. He had killed the male but missed the female, the pregnant female." Dean added pointedly.

Sam was flabbergasted. This went against all their lore. "A pregnant werewolf?"

"It's always been a possibility. Think of Blade, his mom was pregnant when she was bit by that vamp."

"That's a comic book Dean. Not real life."

"Oh yeah, cuz most people think the supernatural is all just make believe," the older man commented sarcastically. "Gimme a break. Sides, nothing says it can't happen just obviously something that doesn't normally happen."

"So this pregnant werewolf…" Sam prompted.

"Came back in time to see Dad kill her mate. She marked his scent and then went into hiding to plan. And plan she did."

"If this all happened while we were kids, then how the hell do you know all this?"

"Because she told me, Sam." At his brother's baffled expression, Dean quirked the corner of his mouth in an awkward smirk. "She waited and planned. When she caught his scent again, you were already at Stanford and her baby was old enough to help her get revenge. They followed him and watched him and then laid a trap, for me."

"What? Why you?"

"They wanted to make Dad suffer first. And they knew the best way to get to him was through me. Although I think they overvalued my worth."

"Dean," Sam admonished softly.

"Hey, it's ok. Dad got'em in the end. It worked out." Dean's voice was gentle and placating. It was the same voice he used as a kid when Dean promised their dad was going to be back soon or that Santa had left presents. Lies that were meant to make him feel better. Sometimes, he thought Dean said those things as much for his own benefit as Sam's. Which told Sam that the words may be true but there was way more to this than his brother was willing to admit.

His heart began to thud a little harder in his chest as anxiety and worry began to build up inside of him. Glancing to his right, Sam noted the distant gaze of his brother while he watched the scenery wiz by. Old memories and pain flickered across the older man's expression. Sam wanted to give his brother time to collect his thoughts, but he couldn't keep the nagging sense of dread away. And the only cure he could think of was getting Dean to tell him what he went through. "Dean," he spoke the name softly. "What did she do?"

For a long time his brother didn't respond, didn't move. Memories, dark memories danced across his mind. A time he could never forget, no matter how hard he tried, haunted him. If he allowed his thoughts to follow this dark trail, he feared the abyss would swallow him whole. Fighting to regain control, Dean fell back on his tried and true methods. A choked laugh escaped his throat. "You know that saying, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Well she ain't got nothing on a royally pissed off werewolf bitch."

As they headed west, Dean began to breakdown the incident for his brother. He offered explanations without details, though he could describe every moment of his ordeal with pinpoint accuracy.

Dean told his brother how they caught wind of a werewolf killing in some Midwestern town. It wasn't Farmville but far from suburbia. The reports came out right at the end of the lunar cycle. They had no other hunts in the works and it was less than three weeks for the moon to be right again. So they decided to do some ground work and see if they could roost out the werewolf before the next round could begin.

The Winchester duo split up to investigate and conduct interviews. John worked with law enforcement to dig up what he could from his end while Dean interviewed friends of the victims and witnesses. The trail had gone cold, so they were going to have to wait it out and hopefully cut the losses as best they could. So when one of the "cute" witnesses called to speak with Dean again regarding some promising information, he headed out without thought. Next thing he knew, he walked right into a trap.

Now it was just a little over a week til the next full moon. And they had Dean. John didn't realize at first anything was wrong. He assumed his rather promiscuous son was off 'interrogating' the witness. It wasn't until the first package was delivered to the hotel room roughly 36 hours later that John learned what his son was really involved in. All the package had inside were a few pictures of his beaten son and a pint of blood.

Over the next two days, John frantically searched for his eldest to no avail. His only clue – hope – that his boy was still alive came in the packages he received over that time. Again pictures of his son bound and beaten along with a pint of blood. After the third day, John was hysterical. He could barely function.

And then the fourth package arrived. Inside, along with the usual contents was a note. It spoke of the pain of losing a loved one. How their suffering was unwarranted. And that there were ways to end the suffering. By the next full moon, his son would suffer no more.

Full on panic settled in John Winchester's chest. He needed help. Pastor Jim and Caleb answered his call. By the time they arrived, another two days had passed. And still the packages came. Taunting him.

The trio searched every inch of that town. They even involved the local law enforcement, employing every man in the search for the lost Winchester. Another three days passed. With each new delivery, John held documented proof that he was losing his boy. The beatings, the blood loss and the apparent lack of food had taken their toll. He wasn't sure how much longer Dean would be able to hold out. They were losing hope fast.

The three men continued to contact fellow hunters hoping for some kind of lead. But no one had heard of such a situation ever happening before. Everyone was baffled.

And then, one day before the full moon, in the wee hours of the morning, Bobby called. He had called in a favor from a source he refused to disclose. He had him search via satellite for anything in the area that seemed out of the ordinary. They finally got a hit.

In an old abandoned campground two towns over, there was a growing flurry of activity and in one of the shots a big black car was spotted. It was their best and only lead.

Local law couldn't follow since it crossed county lines. John was actually relieved and thanked them for their help before heading out. Now he didn't have to hold back when he found the bastards that had hurt his boy.

They arrived in the nick of time. Tearing through the pack while in human form, the Hunters found the woman and her son. Using a delirious and half dead Dean as a shield they revealed their plot of revenge. Even half conscious, Dean wasn't going to go down without a fight. During his coherent moments when he was left to rot in his cell, he had worked out a steel nail from the floorboards. It wouldn't be an effective weapon against such a strong werewolf, but it was enough to cause it pain.

During the standoff, he managed to make eye contact with his Dad and convey enough of a message that set the other hunters on high alert, ready to move at a moment's notice. And when he got his moment, he moved with lightening speed, revealing the nail and driving it into the woman's eye. The instant she released him, howling in pain, the older hunters retrieved their weapons and filled the bitch with more silver than a jewelry store.

Her son shrieked with anger and transformed right in front of them in a matter of seconds. Then he charged. Not for the men who had gunned down his mother, but for the prone figure that collapsed once he had been released. It had happened so fast that the kid had managed to dig his claws into Dean's abused body before they pumped the young werewolf full of silver too.

After his rescue, the road to recovery was long and hard. John only stopped in everyone once and a while to check up on him. Each visit tore at his heart because he could see the disappointment in his father's eyes.

Dean's voice trailed off, raw from hours of talking and the emotions it stirred. He had stopped when they had paused for food or gas. They had been chasing the sunset for hours, but it was dark now. He had only been taking half doses of his pain meds so he could get the story out. Now he was exhausted and could feel every ache in his body.

Sam needed time to absorb all the information his brother just relayed. It was horrific in his imagination, he could only assume it was far worse to have lived through it. "God Dean," he finally breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not like I was with it for a while after everything happened. And by the time I was able to make heads or tails of it, you had made it clear you didn't want us bothering you anymore. So I didn't."

"You still should have told me," he muttered with no real conviction. They both knew even if Dean tried, Sam was still too stubborn to have really listened. That truth stabbed Sam right in the heart. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. You weren't even there. And if you had been, you would have been a target too. May have ended up in the cell next to me getting just as messed up. I told you I had been through this before and I would never wish that on you Sam. You're my kid brother. If it had been you with those wolves, I would never forgive myself. I would have gone insane if they had you all that time."

"Dean," Sam choked out through his turbulent emotions.

But the older man rambled on unheeded. "Ten days. I was with them ten days. If you had been there even half that time… " He shook his head, unable to really express his thoughts. "I can remember thanking god that you were safe at Stanford, that they hadn't gotten to you too. It was a nightmare. A lot of it is still pretty hazy for me."

"Then how do you know so much about what happened? What dad was doing?"

"Dad may not have visited much while I was recovering, but Jim and Caleb did. They told me what Dad told them when I first went missing and then what happened after they got there. I kinda pieced it all together from what they said and the bits I could remember."

Slumping back into the seat, Dean was really feeling his body's protests. They had been in the car for 13 hours now and as much as he loved his baby, Dean just couldn't get comfortable anymore. "Hey, stop at the next motel you see."

"Sure." Sam did as his brother asked. He was almost exhausted as Dean from the emotional rollercoaster he felt from Dean's recounting. The whole situation had just been so unbelievable. And yet he could tell his brother was telling the truth and the scars marring his brother's skin backed it up. It made him sick.

Sam didn't pull into the first dive he saw. He waited until they came across a decent looking place to hole up. His brother had been through so much in his life, Sam knew he could afford to give him something better than the flea and roach motels they usually stayed in. And Salt Lake City definitely had more options to choose from.

It didn't take him long to pull into a chain hotel and book a double. Again, the fact that Dean didn't protest his choice of digs told Sam exactly how bad Dean was feeling. They carried their gear inside (because Dean demanded he carry his own things) and got ready for bed. He did a quick change on Dean's bandages before finally allowing themselves to rest.

Dean took his pain meds and quickly passed out. Sam stayed up a few more hours pondering everything he had learned. Eventually exhaustion would claim him too, which was a good thing because they planned to wake early and push it all the way to Palo Alto tomorrow. They were making a quick stop in Reno on the way to check on Jenn and Patrick. It would be a long day and they would need all their strength for what lay ahead.

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Well, one more chapter left, if you can believe it. I know this has been a long time coming and it will be sad when it's all over. I hope you all enjoyed this chap even if it didn't have all the answers.

This is your last chance to review and have me respond (for anon or guests.) I would really appreciate hearing your thoughts up to this point. If not, I still am very thankful for all those who have taken the time to read, review, lurk, fave, alert, this story or myself. It is my honour to take this journey with you all. –bows deeply to my readers–

Oh and if anyone is interested in fleshing out the story above, please let me know. I would absolutely love to read it. I would even be willing to beta, co-author or consult on such a story.

Next week, the final chapter. Until then, my friends,

~Ari :D


	31. End and Beginning

"See this is why I didn't want to tell you." Dean growled from the passenger seat.

"Huh?"

"You're brooding."

Sam scoffed, "No, I'm not."

But Dean was having none of it. He had been watching his little brother all morning. Leaning against the passenger door, he crossed his arms (ignoring the twinge from his chest) and glared at his brother. "Would you prefer to use the word mope? How about stew? No? Sulk then."

Scowling, Sam tightened his grip on the steering wheel further, causing it to creak in response. "I'm not brooding or sulking or whatever, Dean."

"Right? So there's a perfectly valid reason you've been so quiet this morning. That virtually every muscle in your body is practically vibrating with tension right now. And if you grip the wheel any tighter you're going to buy me a replacement when it cracks." When Sam hesitated to respond, Dean grinned with satisfaction. "That's what I thought. If I smacked you in the back right now, you would be stuck with a permanent scowl on your face."

"Shuddup," Sam grumbled. Expanding his lungs with a deep breath, he slowly released it and felt some of the tension he hadn't realized he was bottling up inside him, slip away. Annoyingly, he had to admit that Dean was right. Since the moment he woke up, his thoughts had dwelled on all the information Dean had shared with him the day before. When they changed his dressing, the sight of those old scars only reinforced his inner turmoil. His imagination tried to visualize the cause of each mark. What it had shown him, disgusted and infuriated him.

As they resumed their journey west, Sam's mind kept replaying the worst of these scenes over and over in his head. His brother's pain was just a tool to the werewolf. And it had also been a tool for the shapeshifter. Only that was worse because not only did it inflict that pain again, it used Dean's feelings and memories against him as well. With each second that passed, anger and rage and… and… Well, it built up in his body along with a burning desire to find a way to resurrect that bastard pack so he could kill them over and over again just so he could repay just a little of the pain that had been inflicted on his brother. Because there was no way it would ever be enough.

_Damn it._ Dean knew him too well. He_ had_ been brooding. Inhaling and exhaling again, he forced his body to relax- which was such a contradiction of terms. Still, Dean had warned him that knowing what happened doesn't help, just makes it worse really. And he accepted the risk anyway. If he didn't calm down now and show Dean that he could handle this, then he doubted he would get his brother to open up again. Willing the tension to drain away, he uttered a quiet apology. "I'm sorry. You're right, Dean. It's just … what you went through, you didn't deserve it. Any of it. And it kills me to know there's nothing I can do to fix it."

"There's nothing for you to fix. It's my problem, I'll deal with it. I have dealt with it. I didn't tell you because I was looking for some sort of pity party. I told you because you're like a dog with a bone. You'll gnaw on the thing until you've gotten down to the marrow and don't anyone dare take it away from you until you're done."

San shrugged, "I'm not that bad."

"Yeah, you are."

Sam ignored him and pressed on. "And I wasn't throwing you a pity party. If anything I would through you a bonfire party, where we get to throw every bastard that hurt you up on the pile."

Dean chuckled, "Man, you and Dad are so alike."

"What? No Way."

"Yes _way_," his brother teased. "It's like you two were cut from the same cloth." When Sam went to protest, Dean cut him off. "Revenge, dude. You two think that's the answer to everything. But it's not. Vengeance begets a vicious cycle of further vengeance. Or something like that."

"Really, Dean, begets?"

"What? Heard it on a cartoon I think. Anyway, it's true. That werewolf lady wanted to kill dad because he killed her mate because he hunts all supernatural things because some supernatural thing killed mom. It keeps going and going. And I get it, I do. I want whatever took mom to pay for what it's done too, but that's not the only reason I do this. I want to rid the world of all monsters. To end the cycle of suffering. That's why I do this, Sammy. Hunt things. Because I don't want anyone else to ever have to go through what we did."

Driving along, Sam regarded his brother thoughtfully. In all the years they traveled together, he had never heard his brother talk so openly before. And he never understood the older man's motivation before now. As kids, Sam had assumed it was a mixture of revenge, loyalty and a deep seeded need for approval from their dad that motivated his brother. And while most of that may be true, there was so much more to Dean than he ever imagined. He also realized how unfair life was.

Since their reunion, Sam had learned more about his brother than the 18 years they had spent together prior to Stanford. Sure they could predict each other's moves and thoughts but that was only one layer. He had always seen the older man as simple and two dimensional. But what he knew now, was that was merely the top layer, the outer coating the man portrayed to the world. Underneath there were layers and layers of so much more. And Sam looked forward to learning all about his larger than life brother. A quirky grin played at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" Dean asked defensively, noting the weird expression on his sibling's face.

Sam shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing, my ass. I know that expression. That's your _I-just-got-assigned-a-lengthy-research-paper-at-sc hool_ or your _got-into-a-debate-with-a-teacher-and-won_ face. So spill."

"I've just never seen you like this before. You're a pretty amazing guy."

"Ha!" Dean burst out. "You been taking your pain meds and driving again?" he mocked.

"No smartass. 'Sjust I never realized how much more there was to you than-"

"Don't!" Dean warned, his hand snapped up to emphasize the command. Sam's mouth gaped open but Dean wouldn't let him continue. "Don't you dare turn this into some crappy transformers moment."

"Well, I have heard they are working on a live action version."

"Like that's going to be good." The brothers bantered, laughing. They let the mirth fill the air.

After a few minutes though, Sam felt the need to try again. He wanted his brother to know. "But I mean it, Dean. You're amazing. I mean, as kids we grew up virtually the same way, but what you lived through was vastly different from what I lived through. And it was because of you. I already told you how sorry I was for being a brat. Now let me thank you again for everything you did for me. Lesser men would have faltered in the same circumstances but you didn't."

"Oh I screwed up enough, I can assure you."

"That's not what I meant. You could have runaway and left me or beat me or turned to a life of drugs and crime, but you didn't."

"Right, cuz the cops and feds think I'm such a saint right now. More like the poster boy for the apocalypse, I'd say." Heavy laden sarcasm dripped from his words before taking on a firmer more serious tone. "And I would never hurt you, Sammy. Or let anyone hurt you, if I can stop it."

"And that's exactly what I'm talking about. So you skirt the grey edges of the law, but that's because they don't understand what you're doing. You protect people just like they do. You don't walk away from a fight, you stand up for what's right and good despite the cost. And I'm proud of you for that."

"Wow. I think this is the first time you've ever approved of my methods."

"Not your recreational bar brawls but what you do Hunting. Yeah, I'm proud of you and you should be proud of yourself too."

Laughing, Dean added, "Right Joe Law, just remember this little speech the next time I need you to bail me outta jail."

"Whatever."

The brothers fell into companionable conversation for the rest of the drive, stopping as needed. Dean took his meds after lunch and slept for a few hours. It was evening when they finally hit the outskirts of Reno. Sam called Jenn and got directions to meet up with them.

"So what's happened since we left?" Sam asked after they arrived at Patrick's.

"Well, with a body and a stack of circumstantial evidence piled up, there was enough reasonable doubt to free all the men who had been wrongfully accused." Patrick informed them.

Anxiously, Sam pushed, "And Dean?"

"Don't worry, Sam. They weren't happy with your sudden disappearance but they got over it pretty quick. As each new layer of the investigation peeled back and revealed new bizarre evidence, the DA was pretty quick to dismiss the charges and clear all parties involved. They put the impersonation for the Federal Agent on the corpse. And like I said before, your other priors are more misdemeanors and come with some fines. Sam and Jenn should be able to help you work out a bargain for the charges and get them settled. Then you can start fresh again."

"That's awesome!" Dean cheered. "You two are my new best friends!" The group laughed at his enthusiasm.

"So Jenn, need a ride back?" While the stop had been welcome, considering they just spent another 12 and a half hours on the road with four more waiting for them, Sam knew this stop would be short and sweet.

Smiling, she declined, "No, thanks. I'll see you back at the office. I'm staying to help with arrangements."

"Oh yeah? What kind of _arrangements_?" Dean questioned, waggling his eyebrows.

She lightly smacked the older man on the arm. "I'm helping Pat and Gina with moving and then vacation."

Dean turned to the Marshal. "Where you off to this time?"

Patrick scratched the back of his head and glanced at Jenn while his face began to flush. "Well, I've built some vacation time up and I thought after this case I could use the time. Besides, we will need to take a few days to look for a new place. I put in for a transfer which has been verbally accepted, just waiting on the paperwork. Looks like we'll be seeing each other around after all."

"You're moving to Palo Alto?" Surprised and delighted by the turn of events, Sam smiled broadly.

"Yeah."

"That's great!"

Dean joined in the merriment, having watched the subtle interactions between the PR rep and the Marshal. "Yeah, I'm happy for you two. I had a feeling you two hit it off."

"Thanks," Jenn spoke as she moved closer to Patrick. "It's not like this was a typical set up. And it's not like we can share what's happened with anyone else. It helps having someone to talk to that understands what you've been through. And the fact we conspired to break the law, even if it is for the right reasons. From what you both have said, there's more supernatural things out there and other hunters that may need similar help. We kinda figured, Hunting's not our thing but you guys do a service to the world and we can help in our own way. So don't hesitate to call us if you need any help in the future. Just try not to make our jobs too difficult."

"Thanks for the offer, we'll keep it in mind." Dean replied with a wink.

"And don't worry," Sam glared at his brother, "we're going to be benched ourselves for a while with Dean's surgery and recovery." While Dean gaped with an expression that mingled innocence and irritation, Sam ignored him and turned back to the couple. "And count me in. With our contacts and backgrounds, you're right, we could help other hunters out there like Dean and my dad. I would like to help."

"Will do, Sam." The pair answered together.

The brothers didn't linger too much longer. They briefly met Patrick's daughter Gina and promised to see her around. Then the brothers headed out for the final stretch.

It was late in the evening now. Dean should have been sleeping after his last dose of meds, but instead he sat stiffly in the passenger seat staring out at the darkness. As they drew nearer to Stanford, the anxiety in the older man slowly became evident to Sam. Curious, he probed, "Hey, you ok?"

"Fine."

"Sure. Is your leg bothering you? Cramps? Shoulder? Head? Anything?"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Geez Sam, what's with the inquisition all of a sudden?"

"Just checking. You just seem pretty tense."

"Well, I'm fine," he snapped.

Shrugging, Sam let his brother be and continued driving. He had opened the door, all he had to do was wait for Dean to accept the invitation. It didn't take long.

"You should have called her."

"Who, Jenn?"

"Jess. Let her know you were bringing your loser brother home."

"Stop that." Sam felt his ire spike at Dean's self-recrimination. His brother had a bad habit of hiding his own worry and frustration by making others angry at him. But he refused to take the bait Dean was dangling. Instead, he calmly spoke, "And we'll be there soon enough. I can tell her just as well when we get there."

"It's just a lot to dump on her all at once."

"Let me worry about that. And you'd be surprised, she's the best. She will understand. You'll like her."

"Still should have given her a heads up." Dean muttered realizing that Sam wasn't going to play this game.

"Well, it's too late for that now. It's almost midnight and we should be there in like twenty minutes. It's fine."

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat the rest of the drive. Soon they were pulling up to Sam's apartment building. He helped Dean climb out of the Impala, but Dean brushed off his help inside. Rather, he suggested, "You go up first and make sure it's ok. Once you have the all clear, you can come and get me."

"Come on, Dean."

"I mean it, Sam. It's been great having you back for the past few days, but before that you had made it very clear you didn't want our worlds to mix. I'm not going up there to force my life into yours, especially when you've had everything going great just the way it is. If you want me in it, then she has to know what she's inviting into her life and accept me - _us_ for who we are. If she can't do that, then we both go find a room for the night and then a new place to live together."

Sam understood his brother's reluctance and relented to his steadfast position. For now anyway. "Fine. Give me ten minutes and then I'll be back down to help you up."

"Fine. Ten minutes. Now git, I think I'm ready for another hit of the good stuff and to pass out for 3 days. The sooner you get back, the sooner I can start my vacation in la la land."

"Ten minutes," Sam affirmed and then darted up the stairs to his apartment.

Dean watched him go then glanced at his watch once his brother had disappeared inside.

Moving with ease in the familiar surroundings, he unlocked the door to his and Jess's apartment. The comforting smell of vanilla wafted through the door. _Jess must have been baking again_, he thought absently as he stepped inside. "Jess, I'm back," he called, "Jess?"

-_fin _-

- S – P – N – S – P – N –

Yes, this is really the end of this fic. I know, I know, there are still some unanswered questions. To be honest, this was exactly where I originally planned to end this fic. Mainly because I'm still not sure if I want Jess to live or not in this reality. I am open to suggestions, in case my muse decides this story needs a sequel.

As hinted, I have considered writing a sequel but right now I have several other projects in the works, so time is limited. Especially with school restarting soon although, not for me. Still, my daughter's life takes up a lot of my own right now so I'm still affected by it. I may not be posting a new story right away but I won't be far from the fanfic world. I still have fics in other fandoms that need finishing so you might see me posting there for a bit.

If you are in search of a new fic to read, might I suggest a few one shots I posted over the past few months. (I know shameless plug – sorry!) But my little ficlet _Cruise Control_ is still reviewless which makes my muse sad. :( And I do have a few more short stories I will try posting over the next few months so keep an eye out.

I sincerely would like to thank everyone who took a chance to read this story. It has been my pleasure sharing it with you all and knowing it has brought some happiness to others. My family thanks you, my muse thanks you and I thank you for all the encouragement. Much love for you all!

Until the next adventure,

~Ari :D


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